Chapter Text
Sam had barely stepped off his connecting flight from Chicago into the regional airport when John intercepted him.
It felt good to be back home, even if it was just for the weekend. He looked out as the truck cruised along the two-lane highway back toward their small town just outside of Indianapolis. Sam was eager to stop by his brother’s apartment before heading home and John agreed.
It was a good thing they did because they were in time to witness Castiel with an armful of Dean.
"Cas, put me down, I can walk," Dean complained, though he immediately buried his face into Cas’s neck, taking a deep, desperate gulp of his Alpha’s scent. At nearly nine months pregnant, his bump was stretching tightly under his soft grey t-shirt.
"You are in pain," Cas stated, an edge of panic in his voice. “Something is happening."
"It's just Braxton Hicks, relax," Dean grumbled, but his body suddenly went rigid. He let out a sharp gasp, his head snapping back against Cas’s shoulder as his entire stomach tightened into a hard, visible knot.
Cas’s instincts roared to life. He gathered Dean closer to his chest, his scent flaring so intensely that Sam felt a primitive urge to bow his head.
"John," Cas barked, dominant and protective. "This isn't Braxton Hicks. His water just broke. We are going to the hospital."
"On it," John said, completely dropping his gruff exterior as he pivoted back toward the truck. "Sam, leave the luggage on the porch! Get the car seat base out of the Impala and lock it into the back seat of my truck right now. Move!"
"Right–yeah, on it!" Sam stammered, his own instincts kicking into high gear. He was a Winchester Alpha protecting his brother.
By the time they had made it to the local Indiana hospital, a steady Midwestern thunderstorm began to roll through.
Sam sat in a vinyl chair outside the delivery room, his knees pulled up to his chest. The wind and rain rattled at the windowpanes. John paced the hallway nearby. They refused to leave.
Sam could hear the low, agonizing groans Dean was trying so hard to muffle, and the low rumble of Castiel’s comforting voice.
During a particularly brutal contraction, Cas reached out to soothe Dean's neck, trying to flood his senses with calming pheromones.
A loud, furious roar echoed off the sterile walls, easily cutting through the sound of the rain. "Castiel, I swear to God, if you touch my scent gland one more time while I’m having a contraction, I will bite your nose off!"
Followed immediately by Cas’s calm response: "You may bite whatever you wish, but I am not leaving your side."
Sam let out a startled laugh, wiping a hand over his face. He caught his dad's eye, and John let out a rare, amused grunt. Yeah. He was definitely still Dean.
"Alright, gentlemen," the doctor said, stepping into the room with a calm, practiced efficiency. "It's time to push. Let's bring this pup into the world."
Dean was put on his back in the center of the massive delivery bed. His wore a soft, loose-knit white cotton gown that was damp with sweat and bunched up around his chest, leaving the massive, drop-heavy sphere of his stomach completely bare to the room. His green eyes were wide, dark, and wild with exhaustion.
"Cas... Cas, damn it, he’s splitting me in two!" Dean panted as another massive, peak-level contraction gripped his lower pelvis. His fingers curled into the bed as his back pressed into the mattress. His body was working over time, releasing heavy amounts of specialized slick from his uterus to cervix in an attempt to force the pup through the shared pathway of his lower tract.
Castiel stood immovably at the head of the bed, his sleeves rolled tightly past his forearms. "Lean into my scent,” he encouraged.
"I can't..." Dean wheezed. He let his head fall back into Cas’s chest, inhaling the suffocating scent that Cas was venting directly into his face to sedate the panic. "It hurts too much."
"You’re built for this," Cas encouraged fondly, “Come on, my Omega. Push for me."
"He’s crowning," the senior specialist murmured quietly from the foot of the bed, guiding Dean’s trembling, bent knees further apart. "Next contraction, Dean."
Dean let out a long, fractured cry, as a blinding wave of pressure slammed into his lower abdomen. He didn't look at the clinical monitors; he didn't care about the room. He locked his green eyes straight onto Cas’s unblinking blue gaze, finding strength in his husband's face.
Dean dug his heels into the stirrups, bunched his fingers into Cas's damp shirt, and poured every single ounce of his remaining endurance into a final, chest-heaving push. The pressure in his pelvis felt like he might explode before a massive release followed.
A healthy baby’s cry wailed out through the delivery suite, perfectly unbroken.
The specialist immediately lifted the slick, squirming newborn into a receiving blanket, clamped and cut the umbilical, before laying the new pup directly onto Dean’s bare, sweat-damp chest.
Dean’s hands flew up to cradle the tiny back of his baby. Jack was beautiful. He was a perfect blend of his parents, with a dusting of dark Novak hair, and the long Winchester build in his newborn body. The moment the baby's skin touched Dean’s chest, his scent flared instantly soothing the pup's cries into soft, wet snuffles.
"A-awesome," Dean whispered. He was overwhelmed by the new-baby smell that was uniquely Jack. He kissed the top of the baby’s damp head, so tired he could hardly keep his eyes open, but he couldn't look away from the tiny face. “Look at him, Cas. Our boy. He's really here.”
Castiel didn't speak for a long moment. He reached down, his calloused hand gently covering both Dean’s hand and the tiny back of the pup. "He is magnificent, Dean," Cas softly said, voice shaking with emotion.
As the first pale light of Sunday morning began to break over the flat Indiana horizon, painting the sky in soft shades of pink and grey, the hospital room fell completely silent.
Sam, who had been dozing in his chair, snapped awake as Cas stepped out of the delivery room. The labor had felt quick but in reality had gone on for several hours.
Cas turned toward Sam and John, a rare, breathtaking smile breaking across his face. His his hair was a spectacular disaster, but his blue eyes were shining.
"He is asleep," Cas whispered. "They are both asleep."
"They?" Sam breathed, standing up.
"You have a nephew," Cas said, his chest expanding with a pride so immense it seemed to fill the entire hallway.
Sam stood, wrapping his arms around Cas in a sudden hug. Cas returned it tightly, patting Sam’s back with a heavy hand.
"Can I... can we see them?" Sam asked, pulling back.
"Quietly," Cas smiled.
Sam pushed the door open and walked to the bed, his dad trailing softly behind him. The room was warm, smelling intensely of vanilla, pine, and the clean, sweet scent of new life, entirely shut away from the damp morning outside.
Dean was propped up against the pillows, fast asleep, his face pale but completely at peace. Wrapped in a soft blanket and tucked securely against Dean's chest was a tiny, downy-haired bundle.
John stepped up to the bedside first, his dark eyes scanned his oldest son, completely ignoring the tiny bundle for a split second. He took in the steady rise and fall of Dean’s chest, the faint, healthy flush returning to his cheeks, and the tranquility settling into Dean's features as he slept. Only when John was sufficiently satisfied that Dean was perfectly okay did the rigid tension finally melt out of his broad shoulders.
Cas watched his father-in-law, gratefully, understanding the silent language of Alpha fathers. He stepped forward and carefully gathered the newborn pup from Dean's chest, ensuring his mate wasn't disturbed.
With gentleness, Cas turned and placed the tiny, swaddled bundle directly into John’s large arms.
John froze for a fraction of a second. He looked up at Cas, before he carefully navigated his way over to the vinyl hospital chair by the window.
The early morning sun was just piercing through the fading storm clouds, casting a clear, clean light across the room.
John sat down heavily and simply stared down at his grandpup. His rugged face softened into a look of pure love washing over his features that Sam had rarely, if ever, seen before.
"He’s a beautiful pup," John grunted, his rough voice was captivated.
Sam stood at the foot of the bed, watching his family. He looked at his big brother, now a proud omega father, and at Cas, who had quietly stepped back to the bedside to slip his hand into Dean’s slack grip even in sleep.
It was surreal seeing three generations of his family. Sam watched his father gently smooth a finger over Jack’s soft cheek, and knew that as much as John loved his sons, nothing could rival this new love for his grandson.