Beta'd by the lovely JenF.

Here is the extension of my drabble, It's Time!

It's Time!

Dean stumbles out of bed. He assumes he has hangover, because even though he can't remember drinking, his head hurts like hell. His movements are sluggish, and he feels strangely bloated. He's not awake fully when he reaches the bathroom. Dropping to his knees, he retches violently into the toilet. Not the best way to start the morning.

Standing up, his whole body feels heavy. From the door way, he sees Sam sitting up. Still dizzy, he asks, "Did we drink last night?"

Sam just stares.

It's making him uncomfortable. "What?!"

Sam swallows. "You haven't noticed?"

"Noticed… WHAT?" Suddenly, his mood changes, from one of confusion to extremely, and inexplicably, pissed.

Sam just points.

Dean looks down.

He has to move extra quickly to the toilet's safety now. He pukes again. When he steps out of the bathroom again, he's already yelling, "Why the hell do I look pregnant!!"

Sam shrugs, absent-mindedly questions, "Did you use birth control?"


Sam still can't take this seriously, and flops back on the bed laughing. Dean feels his emotions changing again, like a tidal wave. He starts to sob, "I'm too young to be afather…"

Sam, laughing without stopping, chokes out, "Hey, hey, no chick flick moments. Jerk."

Dean cries harder, "Why are you so mean to me?"

He runs into the bathroom and shuts the door.

That's when Sam stops laughing long enough to realize how serious this is. Dean is pregnant. Really, pregnant, and by the look of things, the due date isn't far off. His first thought is, Bobby will never believe it. His second- I still can't believe it.

When Dean emerges from the bathroom hours later, still emotionally compromised, he notices Sam is gone. This brings fresh tears as he makes the assumption that everyone will leave him. Then Sam walks in with groceries and Dean sees the calm in the storm of his raging emotions. He smiles, euphoric to see Sam brought bagels. "Sam," he says joyfully and goes to hug him.

Sam accepts the hug, very confused. An openly emotional Dean? This is going to be interesting. At least it isn't the full nine months, he thinks gratefully. Dean's belly is swollen already, and Sam thinks he might be eight months pregnant.

Dean pulls away and eyes the bagels. "Thank GOD you brought bagels. I was craving one sooo bad last night."

Sam eyes his brother nervously. He's unsure of how to approach the subject without offending Dean too much. Dean is contentedly chomping down on a bagel, when he brings it up first.

"What the hell happened to you, Dean? What were you doing last night?"

Between mouthfuls of bagels Dean shrugs, "I don't know."

But then Dean freezes and laughs, "Man I saw the ugliest pregnant lady yesterday! She looked like she was going to give birth to something scaly like her face!"

As Dean starts laughing, Sam just buries his face in his hands.

"Please tell me you didn't say anything," he mumbles.

Dean thinks for a few moments before replying "No, well, more of a mumble to myself- I think she might have heard, d'you know what she said, Sam?"

Sam looks at the puzzled expression on Dean's face and caves. "What?"

"She started ranting about how she was Echinda and I would regret it!" Dean smirks, but is quickly distracted by his bagel. "Did you bring anymore cream cheese?"

Sam's rummaging forthe cream cheese and just as he starts to toss Dean one, he asks him to repeat the women's name.

"Echinda, Sam. Now give me the damn cream cheese."


Bobby pulls the phone away from his ear, glares at it, and then holds it back up. "The mother of all monsters? Are you kidding me?"

Sam runs a hand through his hair and sighs. "No, Bobby, I wish I was…But it looks like Dean royally pissed off one of the oldest witches."

The older hunter isn't sure what to say next. Everything seeming awkward, and out of place. "Can I be the god-father?"

"You have to ask Dean," Sam smiles,relieved to be able to take refuge in humor for a little while.

In the background Dean is humming and coming up with a list of baby names. "Ask Bobby if he thinks Charlie is a good name,"he calls, and then looks back at his list. "Or Eric."

"Uh, Sam," Bobby adds before they hang up, "How are you going to deliver to the baby?"


"Why can't I leave the motel room?" Dean says in between mouthfuls of chocolate ice cream.

Sam locks the door behind him, and turns to him. "Dean, you're pregnant."

Dean sets down the ice cream and shrugs. "So? It's too hot in here."

Sam gives a heavy sigh, and sets down the groceries he just got. "Look, it's 56 degrees in here. We turned down the heat already. I'm freezing. I just bought you every movie the store had; I really think you'll be fine here."

Sam rolls his eyes as Dean attempts to pout his way to success. "Please Sam."

"Dean," Sam tries to clarify, once more. "I'm not taking an obviously pregnant man out in public. It's awkward."

Dean raises one eyebrow. "Are you saying I look fat?"


Sam reviews the facts mentally in his head. The shroud of mystery and general freakishness is the number one reason why they've decided no hospitals. But Sam wishes, possibly for the millionth time that it wasn't him delivering. Sam's seen his brother shot, beaten, bloody, broken a thousand different ways and this is still too weird for him.

Dean's woken up. Grouchy. Again. He's whining about something new today when he suddenly stops, mid-sentence. Sam looks up, no longer feigning interest when he sees the pool growing under his brother.

"I think it's time," Dean says quietly.

Sam springs into action, helping him onto the bed. As pre-discussed he turns on the cassette player, the sounds of Metallica instantly calming his brother. Sam goes into the bathroom, collecting the saved items; the bucket, towels (all clean and fresh), holy water and salt, just in case. Who knows what the hell Dean is about to deliver. With arms full he walks back to where Dean is lying.

Dean's panting. "Shit, Sam," panic in his voice, "I think I'd rather be shot again…Argh!"

He tells Dean to relax; just push – Dean cusses him out every five minutes. The labor lasts longer than Sam had expected, and an eternity to Dean. Finally the baby's head crowns. Sam panics to see a powder blue skull. But as more of the head appears a burst of magical confetti appears in the air.

"Stupid fucking spell." Dean hisses between breaths, "Stupid fucking pregnancy."

Sam's not going to mention the baby might not make it. Because at that moment it falls into his arms, squirming. He gasps, too startled to speak.

"What the hell is it!" Dean yells a mess of blood and sweat.

Sam holds up the small creature wrapped in towels. Dean takes it greedily. He's confused because he didn't think it would be so small… it fits perfectly in to his cupped palms. As he and his child lock arms, she trills happily. Then she sneezes a small flame. Dean doesn't notice the burning smell, mesmerized by her golden green eyes.

"It's…a…baby… dragon?"

Sam nods, the only thing he can think to say is, "yeah and your missing an eyebrow."

At this point, Dean's whole concept of reality is screwed to hell, and the day's efforts leave him exhausted. He passes out and the dragon curls up on his chest.

When he wakes up, he hears trilling noises, like music- but sweeter than anything he's ever heard. She's floating next to his head, with wings out glistening. He smiles, "We're calling her Persily."

Sam looks up from where he sits, reading. Dean sees the exhaustion in his eyes. Sam had watched over him, making sure there were no complications. He gives Dean a weary grin, "That's nice. But I'm not sure the motel pet policy will buy the I-Gave-Birth-To-A-Dragon-Excuse."

Dean rolls his eyes, Persily mimics the gesture. He sits up a little in bed. Propped up on his elbows he notices the sheets are clean. A wave of embarrassment comes over him when he realizes Sam has cleaned up the grossest mess he has ever made. "How long have I been out?"

Persily rests on his shoulders, folding back her wings which can't yet support her for very long. "Almost a day," Sam sighs, "She-uh, we're sure it's a she?"

Dean nods, tickling the top of her head with his index finger. She wiggles her floppy ears. "Anyway, she," Sam continues, "hasn't left your side. How do you feel?"

Dean isn't sure how to answer the question. He does a quick mental assessment. Aside from being sore, he's better than he has been during the whole ordeal. "Great."

Persily chirps in agreement. Her lithe form adjusts as she curls around his neck. Dean feels her little claws tickle his skin as she paces, then her body heat settles. A serene calm comes over him. Sam quirks an eyebrow, still trying to decide if this is a good thing or not.

Later, when Dean learns Persily can imitate anything she hears once, and after he teaches her his cassette collection, he decides this is a very good thing. But as Sam watches Persily, humming Renegade, fly around his clothes breathing tiny flames and creating small holes on his shirts, he decides this can only get worse.

It's when Sam's ready to argue Persily's fate, that they hear a knock on the motel door. The witch stands in the doorway smiling greedily.

"I've come for what's mine."

To be continued