Stalk Watch

A/N: We have finally reached the end. Thanks everyone for reading, reviewing, following and favourite-ing. I really appreciate it! :)

Chapter Seven

Sam's apartment is going to be stained with the heavy scent of burning herbs for the next few years, Dean's sure of it. He's starting to taste it in the back of his throat and setting off fire alarms is becoming an increasing concern but really, that's the least of their problems.

To her credit, Erica seems to get a hold of herself once the book is in her hands and she immediately begins ordering Dean to get this and that while she carves sigils into a new set of candles and blesses them speedily.

Sam is pale and sweaty, lying on the couch, exhausted but filled with an inexplicable urge to move, which Dean forces into submission with threats of speeding up the labour. As it is, Dean's pretty sure they're nearing the end. The contractions are coming hard and heavy with barely a few minutes break in between, and Sam has resorted to biting down on a cushion because he can't stop himself from screaming anymore, despite the unwanted attention it could attract.

Once everything's together Dean sits by Sam's side on the couch, smoothes a damp washcloth over the kid's forehead and lets his brother break every bone in his hand. He's not sure whether he's being dramatic or not.

"At least it's not a monster," he says quietly as Sam groans and clenches his eyes shut, another contraction building up intensity. Gotta look on the bright side, right?

He pats Sam's hand uselessly and watches Erica work. Sometimes he's amazed by how ridiculous witchcraft is. Times like now, as he watches the girl turning widdershins three times because spinning in counter-clockwise circles actually works when you're reversing spells and how freaking crazy is that? She's concentrating intently, carefully sprinkling Vetiver over the re-lit coals now, but when she starts chanting, Dean sees exactly where she went wrong. Even Sam cracks his eyes open and looks at Dean in disbelief.

"Stop," Dean says, rising from the couch.

Erica halts, looking at him uncertainly.

"Have you ever actually studied Latin?" he asks doubtfully.

Erica glances at the page of the book she has open and back to Dean, flushing. "Uh, no," she admits sheepishly. "Not really, I kind of taught myself. I know what it means, just..."

"Not how to pronounce it," Dean finishes grimly, struggling to keep his growing frustration in check. No wonder the original spell went so utterly wrong. "Give me that."

He holds out his hand for the book and Erica passes it over obediently.

"I'll read, you repeat after me," he orders briskly, settling back down on the couch. Sam wilts as the contraction finally ebbs away, his face washed of colour. He looks like he's on the verse of passing out.

"Almost over now, kiddo," Dean says gently. "You just gotta hold on a little longer."

Sam makes a face that indicates hanging in there is nigh impossible task so Dean gets straight to it.

It takes an infuriatingly long time for him to relay the pronunciation to Erica, then for her to repeat it, stumbling over a few of the lines when Dean tries to speed it up, but they manage to make it through without anything bursting out of Sam's stomach and that's what matters.

The chanting comes to an end and Erica tosses a handful of herbs onto the coals, which immediately send out a plume of deep red smoke. The candles flare up, wax sizzling, and suddenly the whole room is filled with a blinding white light. Dean slams his eyes shut as the dazzling display threatens to burn out his retina, feels unnatural heat dancing over his skin, and a low hum builds up to a zap.

Everything falls silent.

Dean blinks away the splotches of light that skew his vision to see Sam doing the same. As one, they look down at his stomach. His normal, flat stomach. Sam yanks up the stretched-out t-shirt and runs his hand over the smooth skin like he can't believe it. There's no hint of stretchmarks, nothing left of the ordeal other than the weight Sam lost as the mystical 'baby' grew and the scent of candle wax and earthy herbs.

"It's gone," Sam breathes out. Dean thinks he hears a note of regret under the awe, but relief clogs his throat anyway. It's over and he didn't have to slice Sam open and dispose of a baby monster. This is pretty much the best outcome they could have hoped for.

"Dean," Sam says quietly, nodding at something over Dean's shoulder.

He turns to look. Erica is kneeling on the floor, snuffing out the candles with her thumb and forefinger, silent tears running down her face, and he's reminded that this isn't the outcome everyone wanted.

"I'll talk to her," Sam murmurs, determined despite how shaky he is when he pushes himself off of the couch. Of course, Sam probably understands what she's feeling right now better than anyone, and Dean bets she doesn't want the scary guy who dragged her in here looming over her. He takes the hint and makes himself scarce, figuring that it's about time for a beer anyway. He takes Erica's book with him and grabs a bottle from the fridge. Hovering in the kitchen, he watches Sam and Erica from the doorway. He doesn't mean to spy but he's not quite ready to let the kid out of his sight yet.

"I'm sorry," Sam says as he drops to his knees beside the girl. He snuffs out the last candle for her. "I know this isn't how you wanted things to turn out."

Erica shakes her head, rubbing the palm of her hand under her eyes. "I should be apologizing to you."

Sam shrugs, "You didn't mean for the spell to hit me. You couldn't have known that would happen."

"You're pretty calm for a guy who was pregnant five minutes ago," Erica notes, sniffing, but she seems to she seems to decide that she doesn't want to know anymore about why that is. "I'm gonna go. I think I should just... go. I'm really sorry."

Sam rises to his feet with her. "Will you be okay by yourself?"

"Yeah," Erica replies unconvincingly, swiping her palms down her face one more time. "It's stupid really. I just thought... thought maybe it would transfer to me somehow..." Her hands find her stomach automatically as she sighs dismally. "I was just really hoping there would be a baby."

"That's not stupid," Sam says as he follows her to the door. He lowers his voice and Dean gets the feeling that he's not supposed to hear this bit, that this is only for Erica and Sam. "For a while... I was kind of hoping there would be a baby too."

Erica stops with her hand on the doorknob, turns back slowly and searches Sam's face for something, Dean doesn't know what, but whatever she finds, she pulls Sam into a hug, wrapping her arms around him as she buries her face in his shoulder, squeezing tight for one quick moment. Sam barely has time to return the embrace before she's pulling away, tears sparkling in her eyes again.

"I'm so sorry," she says quietly, then turns and disappears out the door.

XXX

Dean ends up in Sam's bed that evening, too worried about what's going on in the kid's head to leave him alone. Maybe there wasn't a baby and maybe it's just Sam's hormones going crazy, but whatever, the loss is real and it obviously hurts, a lot.

Sam's not sleeping but he's not saying anything either, and Dean wondering whether he should start a chick-flick moment so Sam can talk this out, but he doesn't know where to begin. What can he even say? Sorry that the baby didn't exist? At least you can go back to being a normal college student now? Nothing seems right for this situation.

"I knew you were right," Sam says suddenly, flicking his gaze from the ceiling to Dean for just a moment. It's too dark to make out his expression but Dean bets he wouldn't like it. "I knew there wasn't a real baby."

Dean hears the 'but' without Sam needing to say it.

"What would I have done with it anyway?" Sam continues, like he's trying to convince himself that this is for the best. "It's not... it's not like I wanted a baby."

That hangs in the darkness. Dean thinks he's telling the truth, partly – a baby was never in Sam's plans, as far as Dean knows - but after the roller coaster Sam's body's been through, it's bound to be sending out some conflicting signals. Dean picks his words carefully; he doesn't want to make it sound like Sam's feelings are invalid but maybe an explanation will help. "You know, your hormones and shit must be freaking out right now, so if you're feeling, uh, crappy" - that doesn't seem to cover it - "it'll pass once your body remembers what normal is." He hopes. "I mean, if you did want it, at some point, it's understandable. I'd understand it, at least, if you wanted to talk about it."

Sam doesn't say anything for a long moment. Dean waits but in the end, all Sam does is sigh and roll over so his back is to Dean. "Lets just be glad it wasn't a monster," he says flatly.

XXX

Sam is just as quiet in the morning. Dean makes coffee and toast and Sam lets him fuss about with pillows and blankets until the kid's cocooned on the couch as if he really were recovering from a bad 'flu, even though Sam says he feels fine. Dean doesn't buy it. Sure, Sammy's not suffering through morning sickness anymore but Dean doesn't think he's even close to fine emotionally. He can tell that now is not the time to push though. Instead he switches on the TV and tries to act like he's engrossed so that Sam can have some time alone with his thoughts. Fifteen minutes later, Dean still has no idea what he's watching.

"I couldn't have done this without you," Sam says finally, staring down into his coffee mug. "Maybe Dad's right. Maybe college is a stupid idea."

He looks miserable and scared and hell no, Sam, after you worked so hard for this?

Dean sets his own coffee mug down on the table and frowns at his brother. "You listen to me, Sammy, this is not a stupid idea. I know I was a jerk about it when you said you were leaving but it was just a shock, okay? This is what you want and if you want it, then so do I." Who would've thought Dean would ever be convincing Sam to stay at college? He falters a little at the absurdity of it, but it's true. He just wants Sam to be happy. "You can't just give up because things got crazy for a while. I mean, before all this happened, you were happy, weren't you?"

Sam shrugs dejectedly, a picture of defeat huddled under the blankets on the couch. "I don't know. I like my classes but... I miss you and Dad all the time and I worry about you hunting without me. I'm not really good at making friends or... maybe I just shouldn't have left. I can't even protect myself from amateur wiccans."

"Even I couldn't figure it out until the evidence was right in front of me," Dean points out. "This was a seriously weird case, even by our standards. There's nothing wrong with needing some help."

Sam looks doubtful but a knock on the door halts any further conversation.

"I'll get it," Dean says automatically, already standing. Sam nods vaguely, still deep in thought, probably coming up with more reasons to give up this whole college idea, as if he's in any condition to be making big decisions right now.

He crosses the room and opens the door, entirely unsurprised to see Jess in the hallway. She's holding a plate of homemade chocolate chip cookies, held in place with cling film.

"I'm a terrible person," Jess states before Dean can say anything. "Or maybe a crazy person, I don't know. I'm really sorry about the other day, so uh..." She holds out the plate. "I'm a terrible, crazy person with cookies. Forgive me?"

Dean grins. "Of course," he says as he takes the plate, stepping back to let her in. He thinks he just found his most persuasive argument.

Jess's eyes widen in surprise and unmistakable delight when she sees Sam on the couch. The girl is so obvious, only Sam would need her attraction pointed out.

"You have a visitor, kiddo," Dean says, unnecessarily, as Jess steps inside. When Sam smiles at her, it's genuine, if a little shaky.

"So you're finally fit for company, huh?" Jess says lightly, inspecting him. "You look awful."

"You should've seen me yesterday," Sam says, with just a hint of an ironic smile curling his lips.

Jess crosses the room a little tentatively and perches on the arm of the couch. "I missed you," she says shyly.

Sam glances at Dean, who puts on his best 'I told you so' face, then comes up with a reason to give the two some privacy.

"Coffee, Jess?"

"God yes, milk and two, thanks," Jess says, with barely a glance in his direction.

"I missed you too," he hears Sam say.

Dean smiles to himself as he heads to the kitchen.

The End