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“You had to go on one last hunt, before you hung it up. You just had to! Now look at you!” Dean chastised at his brother who was nine months pregnant and in labor. He was racing down the highway, trying to make it to Bobby’s house. The only problem is that Bobby is about 6 hours away from them.
Sam had made the declaration that he would stop hunting once the baby was born, but as his due date got closer the more action he craved. A few nights ago, Dean found a case about a werewolf pack that would be an easy kill for the both of them. Since Sam was pregnant, he began searching for a second hunter to join him, but they were all busy. Sam thought this was his chance to get one last hunt in. Dean didn’t love the idea, be he needed the help, so he agreed, not without some rules. He wasn’t allowed to use any fire arms, knives, sharp objects or be in any sort of combat. Sam agreed to his terms and off they went.
All was normal at the start. They did their FBI song and dance to get some intel on the town. Found the exact location of the pack and began slicing and dicing. Sam stayed in the car while Dean fought, until he saw Dean being up against the largest werewolf in the pack. The guy was twice his size and his razor-sharp nails were reaching dangerously close to Dean’s neck. Sam couldn’t sit back and watch his brother be attacked, so he went into the glove department and grabbed Dean’s backup gun, loaded it with silver bullets and began shooting. His aim was spot on and shot the werewolf right between the eyes. It felt exhilarating to shoot a gun again. It had been a while since he held one, but it came flooding back, like riding a bicycle.
At first Dean looked at his brother, relieved at him saving his life. Suddenly that gaze turned into concern as he saw a wet spot growing in between Sam’s legs. The adrenaline still pumping through Sam, he didn’t realize that his water had broken. Dean threw his brother in the car, he began racing down the highway.
Sam’s contractions had begun, but they were still fairly far apart. “Relax, Dean. Labor can take 12 hours. We have plenty of time to get to Bobby’s.”
“Yeah, but your water broke, which means our window is running out!” Dean exclaimed as he pressed on the gas harder.
They made it about 2 hours into their trip before they approached a rather large bridge. The bridge stretched at least 5 miles, over a large body of water. Dean could see the traffic piling up in front of him. “Shhiit,” Dean cursed.
“Dean, it’s fine. It’s just a little traffic. It’ll move soon,” Sam said with hope in his voice. He was then hit with a rather difficult contraction. The contractions he had been feeling weren’t too bad, but this was the first one that made him audibly moan. He put a hand to his middle and closed his eyes tight as he breathed through the pain. He took one more deep breath before saying, “That one was rough…”
Dean looked ahead and saw nothing but cars police sirens ahead of the traffic. He couldn’t tell if it was a bad accident or construction work. What he could see was that no cars were moving. Some cars had even turned off their cars to save their battery. Dean thought it would be best if he did the same. The last thing he needed was for their car to break down.
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Sam could feel a contraction building in his lower back. He shifted to try and get comfortable but it was useless. When the boys needed a place to sleep, the Impala could feel as a good as hotel mattress. Not tonight. Sam was cramping like crazy, and the seat was hitting him in all the wrong places. Sam, straightened his posture a bit as he breathed through the contraction. “Any movement yet?” he asked his brother.
Dean stuck his head out the window and the amount of police cars had doubled, along with EMT’s and he swore he could even see some construction cranes. Whatever was making this traffic, it was bad. They had been sitting in the same spot for over 2 hours. “Nope, nothing.” Dean sighed. “How are you doing?”
Sam brushed his hair back. “Good, I guess. Contractions are still pretty far apart.”
“But they’re getting stronger,” Dean pointed out.
Sam looked guilty. “Yeah, they are,” he said as he rubbed his sore bump.
Dean rubbed his face. “We gotta get you out of this traffic,” Dean thought aloud.
“The traffic will clear up, Dean,” Sam tried to assure him, but his brother looked at him as if he had 3 heads.
“The baby is not going to wait for the traffic to clear up. You are having steady contractions that are getting closer together by the minute! And it’s not like we can call an ambulance for you.”
Sam was trying to stay optimistic, but his brother made a lot of sense. He could feel his baby’s urgency to vacate. Plus, his contractions haven’t been that far apart. Most of them he was able to hide from Dean, in hopes to not worry him. But they were getting more painful with each one. The time for hiding them was gone. He didn’t have another 2 hours.
Sam nodded. “Alright, fine. What’s the plan?”
Dean shrugged. “Hell, if I know. We can’t fly over the cars, so I think we just need to stay put.” He thought about it some more and said, “We can try and call Bobby--,”
But he was cut off by Sam screaming in pain, bent over his body. “Fucck! Oh God Dean,”
he moaned.
Dean put his hand on his brothers’ shoulder. “It’s okay, Sammy. Just breathe.” He then jumped out of the car to get into the trunk.
“What are you doing?” Sam yelled at his brother. When he returned to the car, he saw what he did. He had some blankets in his arms with the old field army kit they kept.
“I’m always prepared,” Dean laughed. “Who’s the Boy Scout now?”
It was hitting Sam. He was going to have to give birth in the Impala. “Ww-wait. I don’t want to do this here. Maybe we can walk--,”
Dean grabbed Sam’s shoulders. “Listen to me, Sam. We are past the point of walking. The other side of bridge is probably 3 to 4 miles down. And even if we got there, then what?”
Sam didn’t have an answer. “What about the people in the other cars? What if they see me?”
Dean looked up at the other cars and most people were too focused on their phones or asleep. “Don’t worry about them. Just worry about getting that baby out.” He could see his brother was still worried so he said, “I’m going to take care of you. We’re in this together,” he reassured his brother.
Dean instructed his brother to lay across the seat, so his tall frame wasn’t cramped in the passenger seat. Dean took the back seat where he could still keep an eye on his brother.
After another hour the contractions were rolling into each other. Sam was never able to catch a break. Sam’s long hair was slicked with sweat. He turned to his brother who was holding his hand. “Dean, I’ve got to push. The baby is coming out. I can feel it,” he strained.
Dean quickly got of the car and went into the front seat. Sam bended his legs to give his brother some room. Dean then helped him get his pants off of him. He could see the baby crowning. “Give me a big push, Sammy.”
Sam bent his body forward and pushed with everything he had, letting out a low guttural sound. “Get it out Dean!” Sam groaned.
“I will Sammy, but you just gotta keep pushing,” Dean told him. With every push the baby continued to inch closer and closer out of Sam. “Maybe, next time you’ll listen to me when I say you should’ve stayed home.”
“Shut up!” Sam strained, as he continued to push.
The baby had finally slipped out of Sam and into Dean’s hands. “He’s here!” Dean joyously announced. He wrapped the baby in a blanket and handed him to Sam. “Congratulations, Sammy. Say hello to your son.”
Sam held his son in his arms and gazed into his eyes. He was a mixture of happy and exhausted. He kissed his son. “Hey, there buddy,” with tears in his eyes.
Suddenly, they could hear the other cars start their engines. The traffic finally began moving. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” Dean said. He started his own car and followed the cars down the bridge.
“Better late than never, I suppose,” Sam said. He then looked down at his son who was fast asleep in his arms. “We gotta get to Bobby’s so he can do a thorough check on the little guy.”
“Agreed. Hey, what are you thinking about naming him?”
Sam smiled at his son. He had his name picked out for months. “Christopher,” Sam told him.
“I like it,” Dean grinned.
“Hey, uh Dean? Thanks for everything,” Sam thanked him.
“Don’t mention it, Sammy.”