Warning for the first one, discussion of abortion!
Supernatural, always-a-girl!Sam/any, John made Sam abort her first baby.
Never Know - Supernatural, always-a-girl!Sam/OMC, John, Dean, PG-13
"You're getting rid of it."
The pronouncement was made with the same finality as when Dad told her and Dean to hide, or ready their weapons, or informed them about some obscure piece of lore. It was the tone that said they had to do what was said, or suffer the consequences.
She was sixteen when it happened. A very certain, very stubborn sixteen. The boy was Randy, a chess-club president, interesting, kind, and responsible. He hadn't the experience to remember a condom when they'd found an open bedroom after the Homecoming dance, and she had been enjoying not just his company, but the absence of her family too much for caution.
One night of that had been too good to be true.
God only knew what John had done to Randy. He was two states and one school behind her now, but he was the only other one with a stake in all this. Her desperate call, made surreptitiously in the bathroom once she'd gotten done throwing up in the morning, was never answered. She only hoped Randy was still alive, and that John hadn't carried out his heartfelt threat to shoot him for getting his daughter pregnant.
"No," Sam said flatly, arms covering her stomach instinctively. "I'm not."
John loomed closer, his hands nearly clamped to his side. Anger was plain on his face, but there was a faint tremor going through him.
"Sam, we're hunters. This is no life for a pregnant girl-."
"Well maybe we can stop hunting for a while!" Sam snapped. She'd been wanting that for years. Hell, she'd wanted that all her life.
"And it's no life for a child!"
"What the hell, Dad?" Sam demanded. "Jesus Christ, I was a baby when you started hunting! What kind of hypocrite are you?"
John's hand almost, almost came up as his face darkened with rage, but he stopped himself. Instead he clamped his hands down on her shoulders with deliberate gentleness, forcing her to look into his face.
"Because I didn't have a choice. Something went after my family, and I had to protect you. And that meant showing you how to protect yourself and tossing you head-first into this life. You have a choice; you don't have to bring a kid into this."
"Then I won't." John looked relieved for only a second, right until Sam straightened her back and stared right into his eyes, unblinking. "I want out. I'll go somewhere else, I'll get a job, and I'll have this kid. I'll find Randy; we're raise the baby together. You won't have to worry about me again-."
John tightened his hands enough to hurt, and Sam cut off her grand plan as a bolt of fear shot through her.
"You're smarter than that, Samantha Jean Winchester. But you aren't smart enough to fool me. You're a hunter, and you're a target. You leave me and your brother, and you're going to be looking over your shoulder for the rest of your life, wondering what's going to come for you. Randy will die, and this kid..." He stopped and took a deep breath. "Your kid will be killed, or worse. Believe me when I tell you that you don't want that."
"You just don't want to lose a hunter," Sam snapped. "You don't care about my baby, you don't care about me. You just don't want to lose a hunting partner after you've already gotten me trained!"
"And you're sure as hell not ready to have a kid if you think that. You think getting yourself pregnant is an exit strategy? Think again." John's voice was harsh. "Now, we're going to the clinic, and you're getting rid of it."
Sam looked over at Dean, begging him with her eyes to speak up, to stop John. Dean looked like he was in almost as much agony as Sam, but didn't speak. For a minute, Sam hated him almost as much as she did Dad, but then he silently got up and followed them out to the Impala, sitting beside her and holding her hand in the back seat.
She thought maybe she understood; if Dean was still the favored son, maybe he had a chance to get Dad to ease off her a little in the future. But if they both stood up against him, their lives would be living hell.
John drove, not looking at either of them, the music up loud enough to cover their conversation.
"You would have been a great mom," Dean whispered.
Sam started crying then, Dean's shoulder sopping up her tears, one hand cradling her stomach. Her tears weren't just for the kid, who'd never see the light of day, or for Randy, who'd never even know he had nearly been a father. Some were because maybe John was just a little bit right, maybe she'd just wanted out, no matter the cost. Maybe she'd been purposefully careless with Randy, just to be out from under Dad's thumb. And some were because she'd never have a chance to know if she could have been a mother, if she could have made it on her own, if she and her baby could have gotten out from being a hunter and been something, anything else.
Then they pulled up to the clinic, and Sam realized she'd never know.
Sherlock (BBC), Sherlock, Sherlock gives birth in the manner of Zeus and Athena, only with surgery instead of a hammer to the head.
Brain Child - Sherlock (BBC), Sherlock and John, PG-13
"Sherlock, I sewed people back together after explosions and extracted bullets. I did not do brain surgery!"
"It is not that, precisely."
"You want me to open up your skull. If that doesn't qualify-."
"John, please. This pain is liable to drive me mad before long. This child wants out."
"No. Absolutely not."
Sherlock stood, back ramrod straight, and held out his hand. There was no pity in his eyes, though his brow was creased with pain.
Moving as if in a dream, John dropped the blade into Sherlock's hand. He watched, fascinated, as Sherlock stood in front of the living room mirror and injected the lidocane. Then came the cut, and John couldn't sit idly back anymore, rushing forward to throw an old towel around his shoulders, pushing Sherlock down into a chair. He tied off the blood vessels as Sherlock fearlessly cut through the thin skin near his scalp, and swallowed hard when Sherlock put his hand out for the skull key.
With remarkable aplomb, Sherlock pried open his own skull along the suture line. And a moment later, a young woman stepped out, dark-haired, pale-eyed, and lithe. She trembled with exhaustion, and lay curled up against her father's side as John hurriedly put Sherlock's skull and skin back together. Sutured and sealed and bandaged, Sherlock finally looked down at his offspring and smiled.
"I don't bloody believe this," John said faintly.
"What? In brain children?" Sherlock said mildly. Far too mildly for a man whose brain had been getting a fresh breeze a few minutes ago.
"Yes, in brain children!" John nearly shouted.
"Especially from me? Please. Who else would have as many ideas that take they'd take on a life of their own? Mycroft has three."
John paused, mouth open. "Oh," he managed.
"There's nothing to worry about." Sherlock got a very strange smile on his face. "Lissandra here is my fifth."
John was convinced his mouth was going to dry out completely if Sherlock insisted on dropping these kinds of revelations. He looked down at the young woman, and she looked up at him, her eyes darting over his entire body in a way that was entirely too familiar.
"You're going to be late for your date, John," she said, winking.
Oh, she was definitely Sherlock's all right.
Sherlock (BBC)/101 Dalmatians, Moriarty + Cruella DeVille, After the pool Moriarty goes home to Mummy.
Plans - 101 Dalmatians/Sherlock, Moriarty + Cruella Deville, PG
Warning, Spoilers for Sherlock (BBC) 2x01 "A Scandal in Belgravia
Jim's shout bounced from the polished stairs, off the antique furniture, echoed from the grandfather clock until it was absorbed by the Persian rugs in Mummy's sitting room. The curls of tobacco smoke led him to her, lounging on a plush divan in front of the fire. Her crimson dress, stylish as always, was barely creased from her languid pose, and a fine fur blanket covered her legs modestly.
"Jimmy, dear!" She pushed up from the divan, abandoning her cigarette holder as Jim knelt by her side. She pressed him to her bony chest, and he let out a high, thin scream of frustration and thwarted ambition. "Was it that atrocious Holmes?"
"The younger. He wouldn't quit, Mummy. He wouldn't stop. I was going to kill him, him and that doctor pet of his-."
"That was such a good plan," she said, letting him go long enough to press the glass of whiskey into his hand. "Mummy enjoyed hearing about it." She smiled at that, and Jim remembered pacing up the down the sitting room, explaining his plan with extravagant gestures. Mummy had done that for years with Jimmy as her audience, and he'd been fiercely proud to be able to switch roles, for once.
"He was going to kill us all." That was humiliating to say, and Mummy frowned in disapproval.
"Tut, tut, darling." She patted his cheek with stinging force behind her bony hand. "Never underestimate your opponents. Play them like instruments, and yet you must always be ready for them to snap when you least expect that."
"I got the call, Mummy. The call I'd been waiting for. That was part of the price. That woman..." Jim trailed off, seeing red for a moment. "Almost more trouble than she's worth."
"Aren't all women, my sweet boy?" Mummy pinched his cheek hard enough to leave a bruise, but smiled broadly as he drained his glass in a single, hard swallow.
"I'm still going to burn him, Mummy. I'm going to give him what he's never had, and then I'm going to take it all away again," he said, blinking away the sting in his eyes when he saw the triumph in hers.
"There's my son," Cruella said, rearranging the fur blanket. "That's my clever boy. Now sit, and tell Mummy everything."
Jim Moriarty sat at his mother's feet and began to lay out his plan, hoping he could finish his own schemes before hers came to fruition.
After all, it wouldn't have been the first time.
Grimm/Supernatural, Monroe&Nick, Winchesters, "Hunters? No way, if you're dealing with those fanatics I'm sitting this one out."
Really? - Grimm/Supernatural, Monroe and Nick, PG
"Whoa, whoa, whoa, guys in a what?" Eddie put down his beer and straightened from his casual slouch against the counter.
"An old Impala, black. Sam and Dean Winchester, according to their wanted posters. They were going after that new hexenbeast. I caught them before she made them. I thought they could help me tail her until I figure out if she's involved in the case," Nick repeated warily.
"Hunters? No way, if you're dealing with those fanatics I'm sitting this one out." Eddie crossed his arms defensively, but sidled in place nervously.
"They knew about hexenbeasts, I thought they were Grimms-."
"Ok, one, they're hunters, not Grimms. You guys have your sacred bloodline or whatever, and you can see us. Hunters can't, they just have to go on whatever evidence you find, and they aren't that patient. You guys have all this lore passed down from hundreds of years, hunters have whatever crap they managed to cobble together from a bunch of old books that were translated really badly, along with a hell of a lot of anecdotes from a bunch of their buddies. And lastly, Grimms only really kill the bad guys, hunters have a shoot first, shoot last, and then decapitate and burn the corpse mentality. No thank you."
Nick paused, and double-checked the file folder he'd brought with him. There, at the bottom of the sheet, was something that jumped out at him. Well, aside from the assaults, weapons charges, fraud, and murder. "Grave desecration," he read out loud, eyebrows raising. "Wow."
"Told you. Grade-A freaks, the whole bunch of them. If you want firepower, call these guys. Otherwise, I'm staying inside. One look at me doing anything Blutbod-ish and I'd get a silver bullet to the heart."
Nick snorted. "That doesn't even work." He put the folder aside. "They really believe that?"
Nick picked up his beer and clinked it with Eddie's. "Then I think us two can handle it ourselves."
"Damn straight." Eddie grinned and took a long drink.