gonna make you wonder why you even try,

(Hard times) gonna take you down and laugh when you cry

(These lives) and I still don't know how I even survive

(Hard times)

(Hard times)

And I gotta get to rock bottom

-Hard Times; by Paramore

January 13th, 1985

"You're putting us all in a bad spot, Clover." Janine Osbourne looked at her sister with annoyance. It didn't go unnoticed, the change Clover was undergoing. In fact, most of the nest found out relatively quickly. A lot of controversy came with it; the nest split on what to do. Clover believed she was doing the right thing, but Janine wasn't too sure. "Do you understand what will happen if you continue with this?" Janine asked.

"Of course I do," Clover exclaimed. "I wanted this. You know I've always wanted this."

Janine nodded. "I know," she said. "But you're endangering us, your family."

"You know I love you guys, but having a baby was something I've wanted my whole life. I didn't ask to be a vampire."

There was a long pause. It was true, Clover McNamara always wanted a child. Ever since she was a little girl, back when she was human, being a mother was something she wanted desperately. But when she was turned into a vampire, it felt as though that dream had been ripped away. Clover was turned over a hundred years ago, when her home was attacked by a group of, what she believed were, "madmen". She was the only person to survive, only because they thought she'd make a "great addition". The men who turned her ended up dumping Clover in Janine's nest, and the two developed a deep bond over the years. But there were moments when their bond would be tested. Clover's pregnancy was one of those moments.

"I want you to think about this, Clover," Janine said, "and I want you to think about it very carefully. What is your plan for this baby? Are you raising it here? Does the father know? Because if anything, this child will only cause us a lot of problems."

Clover didn't answer right away. She knew Janine had a point. The father didn't know about the pregnancy. It was a bit of an accident. In all honesty, Clover didn't even think she could get pregnant. She believed that vampires were unable to reproduce because of their current status. But, of course, she proved herself wrong.

With a sigh, Janine ran a hand through her hair. "You're my sister, you know that," she said. "But if you decide to keep this child, you'll have to leave."

"What?!" Clover exclaimed. "You're kicking me out?"

"It's for our own protection." The firmness in Janine's voice didn't go unnoticed. It held the authority of a nest leader. "I can't endanger my nest, Clover. This child might mean the world to you, but I have to worry about my family, too."

"But you said we're sisters. You're just. . .throwing me out?"

"You'll always be my sister," Janine said. "Don't you ever think otherwise. But this child is a hybrid. It will bring us nothing but trouble. I can't put the nest into that kind of spot."

"What if I give the baby up for adoption?" Clover cried. Panic was starting to rise in her. She felt conflicted. She'd spent so long wanting a child, but she was being forced to choose between Janine and the nest and her own child. It was unfair.

"How would a human be able to take care of a half-breed?" Janine snapped. "There's a reason only hunters know about us, Clover. If ordinary humans found out about all of us, we'd be killed off a lot quicker."

"You can't seriously do this to me." Tears welled up in Clover's eyes. Her hands immediately went to her stomach. There was a small bump, barely noticeable at first. Clover could feel small flutters, indicating just how alive her child was. And it broke her heart that she'd have to leave her nest just to have the child she always wanted. "I've been with this nest ever since I turned," Clover barked. "What am I supposed to do?"

"I don't know," Janine sighed. "I may have some contacts who'd help you out. If you want, I can call them. . ."

"You know what, no," Clover hissed. Tears were falling heavily down her face, her breathing becoming labored. "If you're so concerned about your nest, I'll go. I thought you'd be understanding. You are my sister after all."

"Clover, don't do this. . .," Janine tried.

Clover left before Janine could finish what she was saying.

(ง'̀-'́)ง

Life outside of the nest was difficult for Clover. She had to quickly adapt to life outside. She had to learn how to provide for herself, what would be good for her and the baby. It was difficult, obviously. She struggled in the beginning, but she was learning how to make it. And she was doing whatever was necessary to make it happen.

"I already hit this blood bank yesterday," Clover murmured, looking through some paperwork, "so I'll have to go through this one soon."

Stealing from local blood banks was the last resort in Clover's mind. After she left the nest, her feedings became uncontrollable. She'd attack and drain anyone she came across. For Clover, in those moments, she believed it was for the greater good. It was giving her and her child nutrients. But what she didn't realize was the dangers she was putting herself in. Clover killed too many humans in a short period of time; as a result, hunters were on her trail. When she started to calm down with her feedings, she tried to figure out other methods. She refused to feed from animals, not wanting to expose the baby to anything harmful. The only option remaining were blood banks. They'd be filled with plenty of blood for Clover to have. It made things easier for her, too. With Clover's stomach getting bigger, and her energy levels going down, that meant hunting would've been eliminated altogether. Blood banks were right there, ready to go. She'd break in and only take enough to last a week or two. Just enough to give Clover the right amount of strength and energy.

Shaking her head, Clover let out a frustrated huff. "I've still got enough left to last a while longer," she grumbled, running a hand through her black hair. Feeling a firm kick, the mother-to-be let out a semi-humorless chuckle. The baby was becoming more active. At only eight and a half months pregnant, she noticed just how eager the baby was to move sometimes. "Don't worry, little one. It'll be fine," Clover said. Placing a hand on her swollen belly, a small smile came across her face. She was already in love with her child, and it wasn't even born yet.

After a few more minutes of looking, Clover chose to put the paperwork down for a moment. Having spent the past couple days in a dingy motel room, the mother-to-be was feeling a sense of cabin fever and discomfort. A great amount of pressure was weighing down on Clover's lower back and abdomen; her legs and feet were killing her and she felt overwhelmingly tired. Her breasts were tender and just as uncomfortable as the rest of her body. Letting out a huff of air, Clover leaned back on her chair, hoping to give herself a bit of comfort. Anything to relieve the pressure. Closing her eyes, the mother-to-be took a moment to allow herself to relax. She'd been stressed over the blood bank situation for a good portion of the day. She shouldn't have to be, considering she had enough blood to make it for a little while longer. But Clover couldn't help it. She was just easily stressed herself out sometimes.

Only a couple minutes into her relaxation, a pain washed through Clover's lower abdomen. It was dull at first, but growing in intensity very quickly. Wincing, Clover slowly sat up, one hand gripping her stomach tightly. The baby was moving rapidly, kicking and shifting mercilessly. The pain lasted for about a minute, maybe longer, before passing.

"Was that a contraction?" she murmured. Even though the pain had subsided, the area remained sensitive. Any touching near where it occurred made Clover flinch. "It could've been Braxton Hicks." Clover didn't have a lot of knowledge when it came to pregnancy. She knew that there was something called Braxton Hicks, which were false labor pains. But with Clover being so close to her due date, then it would make sense for the pain she felt to be early contractions. In all honesty, she wouldn't be able to tell the difference.

Slowly standing up, the mother-to-be let out a steady sigh, hoping to calm herself down. Maybe she was overworking herself. If she was stressing herself out over blood, then it could've been the cause for the pain. Or Clover was coming up with too many theories as to why she was possibly going into pains. She had to come up with a reasonable solution, not just throw out random ones in hopes that she could be right. If she were going into labor, then the pains would be regular. Her water would probably break. There was no wetness between her legs, so it was probably going to take a while if that were the case. Putting one hand behind her back, Clover shuffled over to her motel door. She peered out the peephole to see if there were any people coming by. The motel, for the most part, was pretty much unoccupied at the best of times. The most occupants it got were at night every once in a while. Another pain washed through Clover's abdomen, causing her to double over with a hiss.

This has to be labor, she thought. There's no other way around it.

The pain lasted a bit longer the second time. When it started to fade, it lingered as a dull pain for a solid thirty seconds before finally going away.

Not even a moment later, there was a sharp knock on the door. Her eyes shot up in fear, her breathing laboring. A visitor was the last thing she needed.

Halloween, 2005

"Ava, how're you feeling?"

Nineteen year old Ava Oakley was laying on her bed, a wave of nausea washing over her. She'd been feeling that way for the past couple days. The young girl's sweat sodden hair was pulled into a messy ponytail, her olive colored skin was coated in a fine layer of sweat. Sitting by Ava's bedside was her mother, Tia. Tia Oakley had raised her daughter as a single mother. Ava was never told about who her biological father was, and the teen didn't really care enough to keep asking about who he was. The teen spent most of her childhood asking her mother about her father. Nothing was ever said. If Tia had no intentions of sharing that information, then Ava would stop wasting her breath.

"I'm feeling about as good as you'd expect," Ava grumbled, wiping some damp strands of hair out of her face. "Can't I just have some? It'll make me feel better."

A hardened look came across Tia's face. "You know how I feel about that," she stated firmly.

"You're not the one who's going through this, mom." Ava let out a shaky breath, looking at her mother exhaustedly. "I want to throw up, but I don't have anything in my stomach. I'm hot and cold and I want to just. . .peel my skin off."

With a conflicted sigh, Tia buried her face in her hands. She knew that raising Ava was difficult. There were certain requirements that came with raising a child like her. Ava Oakley's needs were very specific, and Tia just couldn't stand them. It reminded her of a time she didn't want to remember.

"I'll get Marilyn to go get some," Tia said dryly. "How does that sound?"

Letting out a weak chuckle, Ava nodded. "That sounds awesome," she rasped. "Thanks."

With a small smile, the older woman placed a comforting hand on her daughter's forearm. It was really all she could do until Marilyn retrieved Ava's relief. Without another word, Tia stood up and walked out of the room. When Ava's door was closed, the silence that followed hung heavily in the air. It was nice, but almost deafening. If Marilyn was going to retrieve the relief the nineteen year old desperately needed, then God only knows how long it was going to take. When that specific subject was brought up, it was usually met with either hesitation or hostility. In Marilyn's case, there was a bit of hostility.

Marilyn Knox was Tia's eldest daughter from a failed marriage. From what Ava understood, since she hadn't been around during that period, her half-sister's father was a total douchebag. He loved alcohol about as much as he loved beating his wife and daughter. Tia managed to get herself and Marilyn out. Then, a few years later, Ava showed up. It was sudden, but the family learned to adapt. Or, Tia learned to adapt; Marilyn didn't take too kindly to having a little sister. Those feelings continued to linger, causing tension between the two sisters. For Ava, she wanted nothing more than to have a good, healthy relationship with her sister; but Marilyn was a difficult person to get along with.

Letting out a soft groan, Ava draped an arm over her eyes. She couldn't bear the symptoms for much longer. Ava allowed herself to fall behind, and ignored the signs that her body gave her. It wasn't healthy, but she knew how much her requirements made her mother and sister uncomfortable. She wanted to be as normal as possible for them.

Normal, Ava thought with a scoff. As if I could ever be normal.

(A/N):

Sorry for the wait on the chapter. I know it's not the best, but I'm hoping it's at least tolerable. If you've got any constructive criticism you'd like to give, I'd appreciate. I'd like to know how I can improve this chapter and the story overall. So don't hesitate to do so.

I own nothing in the Supernatural fandom. All I own are my OCs, the subplots I put in, and a liking to murder-mysteries. If you've got ideas for OCs or subplots, be sure to PM me or leave a review. I'll add them in as soon as possible.

Just an FYI for you guys, I'm fairly new to the show, so if I get any of the canon characters wrong, let me know. I'd hate to find out I wrote a bunch of characters wrong and I have to rewrite God knows how many chapters to fix it. So yeah, any help from you guys would be appreciated.

Leave random facts on anything you know.

Au revoir, my friends,

Farrah Czajkowski