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Maybe This Time

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The first time that he miscarried a child, Sam was just a few weeks pregnant.  He lost Dean to the hellhounds, found out two days later that he was pregnant, and lost the baby three days after that.  In less than a week, he had lost everything worth living for.  He turned to alcohol and Ruby and demon blood and started a downward spiral that took him years to forgive himself for.

Time is supposed to heal all wounds, but Sam still aches for that baby.  He or she would be almost a teenager now, Sam thinks about that a lot. 

The second miscarriage happened after Dean was sent to purgatory.  Sam was further along that time, almost three months.  He had planned to tell Dean about the baby after they killed Dick but fate  had other plans.

Two days of angry, aimless driving and he woke up in the middle of night, in a seedy motel in the middle of nowhere, in pain

After he left the hospital, empty and hopeless and broken, he hit a dog.

It was years before Sam told Dean about the babies he lost. Dean rocked him in his arms as they both cried for their children.

It was difficult for male carriers to conceive.  Two conceptions were considered something of a minor miracle.  After losing two babies, and now that he was in his mid-thirties, Sam never thought he would conceive again.

Until he did.

Torn between joy and the possibility of another unbearable heartache, Sam kept that baby a secret from Dean.   Every night, when Dean pulled him to a kiss, when Dean whispered how much he loved Sam, when Dean took him apart and put him carefully back together, Sam vowed to tell Dean in the morning.  But with the bright flair of the sun, came the certainty that he would lose this baby like he lost the others and he wanted, he needed to save Dean from that pain.

When Donna contacted Dean about a case, Sam demurred, claiming he did not feel well and to his surprise Dean didn’t push things.  After making sure Sam had everything he could possibly need, Dean went off to handle the poltergeist with Donna and Sam went to the doctor who checked him over and gave him vitamins and told him that there was every reason in the world to believe Sam would carry this baby to term.

Sam wanted to believe him; he really did.  But it’s hard to believe when you’ve been so shattered.

One month passed.

Two.

Three.

Sam was now further along that he had ever been with his first two lost ones.  Sometimes he imagined he felt something deep inside of him, a flutter.  It was too soon to feel the baby move, Sam knew that, but maybe, perhaps, what he was feeling was the first stirrings of hope.  With each passing day, with each visit to the doctor (hey Dean I need to help Charlie with some research, I’ll be back in a few hours), it was as if Sam might actually be able to believe.

A baby. Their baby.

On the fourth visit, the doctor printed out the ultrasound picture and Sam carried it in his hands, cradled it like the picture was the baby itself, staring at the fully formed but impossibly small image of the baby as his Uber driver made mindless chatter about sports and the weather.

He began to rehearse a speech. He would sit Dean down, tell him how sorry he was that he hadn’t told him right away. And he was sorry. This was Dean’s child too. He shouldn’t have shut him out.

Once he got home, he headed to the kitchen where he knew Dean would be.  He carefully made a space on the kitchen counter and placed the sonogram picture there.

Dean, wiping his hands on a kitchen towel, bent over to look . “Sam, she’s beautiful.  Or he.  Do we know yet?”

Sam’s carefully planned speech was derailed by Dean’s lack of surprise

“We can find out next time, if we want.”  Sam explained, then bit his lower lip.  “Are you mad?”

“Mad?”  Dean echoed, as he threw the dish towel toward  the sink and pulled Sam into an embrace so tight that Sam couldn’t tell where he ended and Dean began.  “Sammy, I’m over the moon.”

“But – “  Sam pushed his head back a bit, so he could look down at the man he loved.  “I didn’t tell you, and I should have.  I’m four months – and I wanted to tell you, I did but – “

Dean pulled out a bar stool and sat Sam down on it, kneeling in front of Sam.  His hands were rubbing soothing circles on Sam’s thighs,

“Sam, we sleep in the same bed every night.  I have kissed and touched and tasted every inch of you, I know your body better than I know mine. Of course, I knew you were pregnant.  And, more than that, I also know why you didn’t tell me right away, cause I don’t just know your body, I know you.”

“I’m sorry.”  Sam felt on the edge of tears.   “I wanted to tell you; I really did – “

“I wasn’t there for you when you had your miscarriages, and I know that wasn’t my fault but I still – it still hurts that I couldn’t give you  comfort when you needed it the most. I feel the loss of those babies Sam, still today.  And how being pregnant must feel after those losses – I can’t even imagine.  You don’t owe me any explanations Sammy; I knew you would tell me when you were ready.”

Dean picked up the picture of the sonogram, reverently tracing the outline of the baby before handing it back to Sam.  “Look what we did, what we created. This baby will be the best of us.” Dean pulled Sam’s head down, lips meeting in a tender whisper of a kiss,  “ You can breathe now Sam. You and the baby are going to be just fine. I’ll make damn sure of it.”

That night, in bed, after they made love, Dean laid his head on Sam’s stomach and whispered what a good life the baby would have, how Papa and Daddy already loved the baby.  And it was Dean’s words, the way that Dean lovingly teased Sam about his still tiny baby bump, the.way that Dean talked about the baby’s future like it was assured, that finally allowed Sam to believe that this was the baby he’d finally hold in his arms.

They named her Faith.