Title: All We Were Meant To Be 2/?
Pairing: Dean/Sam
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Two years ago Dean met a woman named Lisa and disappeared. When Sam is captured by a pack of werewolves, he discovers his brother's fate. But Dean refuses to return with Sam and after a passion filled reunion they go about their separate ways. The evidence of what they'd done comes in the form of their son Ben, but now a jealous Lisa has decided she wants the child for her own. (slight au of The Kids Are Alright)
Warning: mpreg
Disclaimer: Seen a brotherly kiss yet? No? Damn it, must not be mine then.
Previous chapter here

Sam stood for a few long moments in front of the Singer Salvage Yard, his heart hammering in his chest and his knuckles white as he tightly gripped the handle of his duffle bag. With John gone on another of his marathon hunts, something he’d been doing a lot more since Dean’s disappearance, Sam hadn’t known where else to turn.

Squaring his shoulders with the knowledge that he hadn’t gone all the way to South Dakota just to look at the property, Sam walked slowly underneath the sign and into the junkyard. There were metal parts that ranged from every shape and size all around the makeshift dirt road that led to Bobby’s house, and Sam let his eyes wander over the hollowed out corpses of junker cars that laid this way and that.

Dean’s face had always lit up like a kid in a candy store whenever they were here. Sam however had never really had the passion for vehicles that his brother and his father seemed to have been born with. It was just one more thing that had made him feel like an outsider within his own family.

Rumsfeld spotted Sam first, and immediately he started to bark in delight as his little stub of a tail wagged so hard his butt shook. Sam smiled at the rottweiler, crouching down a little to scratch behind his ears. He looked up when the front door of the house opened, hinges screaming to be oiled.

“Sam?” Bobby voice raised a little in surprise. He glanced from side to side, seemingly even more startled to find that John wasn’t there too. “Everything alright?”

He was a suspicious man by nature, but when monsters and demons had the ability to take on the form of and possess anyone, such a feeling was what kept hunters like him alive. Rumsfeld had always been able to tell right off the bat though and since he was showing nothing more than joy as Sam continued to pet him, Bobby was sure that he was looking at the real Winchester boy.

“No,” Sam replied, straightening. The dog whined in protest. “I don’t think everything is.”

He stepped into the house when Bobby gestured for him to do so, and found a place for his duffle bag amongst the many thick, dusty volumes and loose papers on demonology that littered the living room.

“Is it your father?” Bobby handed Sam a drink, watching as the seventeen year old downed the water in two big gulps.

“It’s not dad. It’s me. I think… I think something’s wrong with me.”

“Well it ain’t demonic. You just proved that by drinking holy water.”

Sam cast a relieved look at the glass, his free hand moving to lay on his stomach. “Good to know.”

“Sam, tell me what’s going on.”

The next half hour was spent with Sam recounting everything that happened with Dean a few weeks prior. Although he had left out the finer details, he still gave Bobby the gist of what had happened between them.

The older man sighed and ran a hand over his face. “I always did think Dean was a little too interested in you, even being brothers and all. Still though I never thought he’d..” he hesitated with a grimace.

“Dad can’t know,” Sam stated firmly. “If he finds out Dean’s a werewolf--”

“Let’s focus on one thing at a time. First we have to find out what’s wrong with you.” Bobby glanced at Sam’s stomach, a wary look in his brown eyes. “You say you’ve been sick lately?”

“Just in the mornings. The rest of the day I feel fine.”

Bobby quickly ran through any information he could think of on werewolves in his head, but he could not come up with anything that would make Sam sick just a certain time of day. Plus werewolves were not able to pass any kind of disease or anything of the sort.

Unsure of what else to do but determined to help out the boy that was like a nephew to him, Bobby stood and gestured for Sam to do the same.

“C’mon.”

“Where are we going?” Sam asked confusedly, following Bobby towards the door.

“To a friend. If anyone can figure out what’s wrong with you, it’s her.”

Sam was expecting Bobby to take him to another hunter, but instead he was beyond surprised when after eight hours of driving they ended up on the doorstep of a psychic in Lawrence, Kansas.

“Missouri Mosely?”

“She’s helped your father and I out quite a few times,” Bobby said as he rang the doorbell. “Trust me, if anyone can help it’s her.”

The plump, dark skinned woman had an amused smile on her face as she answered the door. “It’s about time you showed up. I forgot you drive like an old man.”

Bobby huffed. “I’m a defensive driver.” He tilted his head slightly in Sam’s direction, although he did not take his eyes off of the woman in front of him. “Sam Winchester.”

Missouri looked up into Sam’s face, and the teenager shifted a little in discomfort at her scrutiny. It was like she was looking literally into him. Her dark eyes widened.

“Boy you’ve gotten yourself into quite a bit of trouble, haven’t you. Both of you get your butts in here.”

Five minutes later found Sam and Bobby sitting side by side on a soft tan sofa, Missouri settled in a big chair across the coffee table from them. She stared at Sam intently for a few moments, then tsked sadly and shook her head.

“What is it?” Sam asked nervously, fearing the worst now. Just how sick was he?

“You’re not sick, Sam,” Missouri answered his unspoken question. “You’re pregnant.”

“What?!”

“About six weeks along I’d guess,” the woman said calmly, as if she had not heard both Sam and Bobby’s incredulous outburst.

“But.. I’m a guy! I can’t get pregnant!”

Missouri shrugged. “Finding out just how this can be true isn’t my forte. I’m only telling you what’s happened to you. Although I must say I’m somewhat surprised at just who the father is.”

Sam blushed and looked down, mumbling something incoherent under his breath.

“I’m not here to pass judgment,” Missouri assured him, her voice kind and motherly. “I’ve seen a lot of things in my life that have happened between two people. Your family has been through more than most folks can even imagine in their wildest dreams, so it’s not unusual that certain feelings have become deeper than society deems normal.”

Sam nodded, still not looking at her. He was grateful for the understanding, although he figured his father wouldn’t exactly see things that way.

“All I can do is offer you the truth,” the psychic went on, “and warn you that from here on out, things are going to get a lot more complicated. That normality you’ve always craved? Well it’s pretty much blown out the window now.”

<>***<>***<>***<>***<>



“Can I stay with you?” Sam broke the silence of the truck about three hours into the drive back to South Dakota.

“Sam--”

“Please, Bobby? I don’t have anywhere else to go and I can’t do this on my own.”

Bobby glanced at Sam, then wished he hadn’t because the boy was using his puppy eyes on him. The hunter sighed, knowing that there was no use trying to defy that pleading look. It had worked on him since Sam was a kid, and apparently nothing had changed.

“I’m not sure how much help I can be, but… I suppose so.”

Sam’s smiled for the first time since showing up on Bobby’s doorstep. “Thank you,” he said gratefully.

Bobby just grunted, wondering just what the hell they had all gotten themselves into.

Sam should have known however that John would not let him disappear for long. Even as focused on his hunts as he was, he refused to lose both of his sons so easily he tracked Sam down. It had not been hard to figure out where he had gone after all.

John was surprised however when Bobby stopped him at the door. “Where’s my son?” he demanded.

Unmoved by the other man’s tone, Bobby simply crossed his arms. “I thought I told you that the next time I saw you, I’d pump your ass full of bullets.”

“Bobby,” John softened his voice, letting his friend see the concern on his face. It was an emotion he rarely showed anymore. “Please. I know he’s here, just let me talk to him.”

“I’m not sure he wants to see you, John. He’s kind of going through a.. well, a situation at the moment.”

A thick eyebrow raised. “Situation? What the hell are you talking about? Bobby if he’s sick--”

“I’m not sick,” Sam’s voice cut him off as the teenager appeared behind Bobby in the doorway. “Not in the conventional sense anyway.”

John looked back and forth between the two men for a few moments, and when no one said anything else he took a step forward. “For God’s sake, someone tell me just what the hell is going on!”

As they all situated themselves in the cluttered living room John watched as Bobby stayed near Sam like he was trying to protect him, and his stomach twisted in knots.

He looked his son over, just then noticing the dark circles under his eyes and his slightly pale features.

“Just what is going on here, Sam? Why’d you take off like that?”

Sam started twisting the hem of his shirt, a nervous habit that he‘d picked up when he was twelve. He took a couple deep breaths in an attempt to brace himself. As he’d told Bobby he did not want to explain to his father about Dean, but faced with John now he knew that he had no choice. John was a lot of things but he would not let this go without an explanation.

So, Sam started slow with him and his friends getting jumped by the werewolf pack. Then about waking up in Dean’s room, and even though he didn’t look directly at his father he would see John tense up and open his mouth to speak. But Sam pressed on before he could get a word out, knowing that if he stopped he would not be able to start again.

When the story was finally over, concluding with the fact that Sam was now somehow pregnant by his changed brother, John did not say a word. When Sam finally ventured to look at him, he saw that the older man’s lips were pressed tightly together and his face was red.

Without a sound, John stood up and walked out of the room. The front door slammed behind him, and Sam buried his face in his hands.

“John Winchester you stop right the fuck now!” Bobby stalked up to the black truck that the other man was in the middle of climbing into.

John turned his head to glare coldly at him. “Do not even try to tell me what to do, Bobby. Did you hear what he said? How can I even look at him! His own brother!”

“Don’t you dare act so condescending,” Bobby snarled. “We all make mistakes--”

“This is more than a mistake!”

“The point is John, that Sam needs you. He’s terrified, he’s confused, and like it or not he’s carrying your grandchild. It doesn’t matter who got him pregnant. The only thing that does is if you abandon him now, you’ve lost both your boys. Is that really what you want? Do you think that Mary would want that?”

John stared at him for a moment, then scowled and started the truck with a low rumble. He left Bobby standing there to watch as he sped off down the road, tires kicking up dirt and tiny rocks in his haste.



<>***<>***<>***<>***<>



The wolf moved slowly through the junkyard. Every once and a while he would stop, his ears perking up to listen to the night around him while he sniffed the air. The scent was getting even clearer now, and the wolf was not surprised at where it had led him.

Although it was a mystery as to why the one he was after would end up here, he wasn’t about to question it yet. The important thing was getting close enough to touch.

There was no sign of the stocky dog that usually wandered around the junkyard, so the wolf was able to get to the house undetected. The scent of rocksalt was strong at the windows and runes were carved here and there into the wooden frames around the glass.

Disregarding both as they were unimportant, the wolf’s body morphed and grew while his bones audibly cracked. When the transformation was done, Dean grabbed hold of the window and yanked up. The lock broke with a soft crack.

He carefully climbed into the dark room, his eyes easily piercing the darkness to focus on the sleeping figure laying sprawled on the room’s only bed. Instantly memories surfaced in Dean’s mind - he could clearly remember childhood nights when he and Sam would lay huddled under the blankets of that very bed, breathing each other’s air as they shared the single, soft pillow.

Pushing the recollection of easier times aside, Dean crept towards the mattress and the springs creaked a bit in protest as he climbed upon it. Instantly and as expected, the bed’s occupant sprung into action.

He saw the gleam of the sharp, slightly curvy knife and grabbed a boney wrist before the weapon could pierce the flesh of his chest. He shoved forward with his body and Sam grunted as he was slammed backwards, both he and the figure on top of him bouncing a little on impact. He immediately wrapped his leg around his attacker’s thigh for leverage and flipped them over, his other knee slamming into the man’s stomach.

His attacker released a “oomph” as the air was knocked from his body, but recovered quickly and before Sam could aim another hit they once more tumbled over.

“Whoa, easy tiger,” Dean’s amused, husky voice broke through the adrenaline and Sam immediately froze.

The bright moonlight pierced through the open window, bathing both figures in silver and Sam finally realized just who was on top of him.

“Dean? You scared the crap out of me!”

“Yeah, I noticed. I’m a little disappointed at the lack of girlish screaming though,” the older brunet replied with a grin.

Sam sat up as Dean climbed off of him. “What are you doing here?”

“I caught your scent and wanted to see you. How come you’re at Bobby’s without dad, anyway?”

“You’d prefer it if dad was here?” Sam asked, avoiding the question.

Dean shook his head and shifted closer, lifting his hand to tangle Sam’s chestnut hair. The soft strands were sticking up this way and that from their tussle. “Not really,” he replied, leaning forward to brush their mouths together.

Sam pulled away, turning halfway from his brother as he put a hand to his stomach. Dean immediately followed, pressing himself to Sam’s side.

“Something wrong?” Dean asked, flicking his tongue over the side of his throat.

Breath catching, Sam shook his head. There was no way he could tell Dean about the pregnancy; his brother had already made it clear that he did not belong with him anymore and Sam would not allow him to feel trapped by something neither of them had planned.

“It’s nothing. Just a stomachache.”

“Liar.” It had always been hard to get anything passed Dean. No one knew Sam better.

“It’s not, Dean. Alright? Leave it alone.” Sam shifted slightly to look at him, Dean’s handsome features illuminated in the moon’s glow. “What are you even doing here? I thought you said I wouldn’t see you again.”

“The pack moved on and we ended up not far from here.”

It was then that Sam suddenly caught sight of a red smear in his cheek. Startled, he lifted his hand and touched it, the liquid sticky and fresh and warm against his fingertips.

Blood.

“Oh God are you--”

“It’s not mine.” He caught Sam’s hand and brought it to his lips, flicking this tongue out over the callused skin.

“Did someone attack you?”

“No.”

Sam jerked away at the matter-of-fact answer. Some part of him had held out hope that Dean would be able to reject the animal side of himself. However the blood was a crash of reality and Sam was overcome with an intense feeling of nausea.

“I want you to leave.”

“No.” Dean tackled him to the mattress. “C’mon, Sammy. You haven’t seen me in months and this is the greeting I get? The last time we were together was pretty damn good; we should do it again.”

“Will you stay?”

Dean snorted. “First you tell me to go, now you want me around. Will you make up your mind?”

“Dean, answer me.” Sam was fighting back tears, his hormones completely out of whack. Missouri had said this would happen. Even so, he had a feeling he’d be this way even without the life growing inside of him. “Will you stay with me?”

There was a puff of air as Dean sighed against his neck. “You know I can’t.”

Sam released a shaky breath and turned away from him, laying on his side. He expected Dean to get the hint and take off when it was obvious he wasn’t going to get sex; so it was a surprise when he felt his brother spoon him. Dean slid his arm around his side and settled his hand on Sam’s stomach.

Sam stayed very still, wondering if somehow Dean would be able to tell his baby was beneath his hand but as the seconds ticked by his brother made no indication that he sensed anything different.

Sam fell asleep some time later, Dean’s fingers gently stroking his stomach over his t-shirt. When he awoke in the morning, the window was closed again and the warmth behind him was gone.

He never felt more alone.

Sam slowly climbed out of bed, his hair sticking up every which way even worse than the night before as he shuffled down the hallway towards the kitchen. He froze in the doorway, staring with shock at the figure that was sitting at the table across from Bobby.

John looked up and upon seeing his son, lifted himself slowly from the chair. He slowly walked towards Sam, stopping a few inches in front of him and his lips twisted into a small, nervous smile.

Sam swallowed hard against the lump that had formed in his throat, his vision fogging as tears filled his eyes. He opened his mouth but no sound came out, so instead he leaned forward and rested his forehead against his father’s shoulder.


Chapter 3