Dean could drive his baby faster than any ambulance, and so it was in record time that he flew into the ER entrance, already barking orders at the flustered trauma nurses.

"What happened?"

"Our motel room was broken into." Technically that was true.

"Are you injured?"

Probably. "I'm fine."

The nurse eyed him skeptically, but didn't press the issue. "What relation are you to the patient?"

Dean knew they wouldn't tell him a damn thing if he wasn't related. "Husband." Husband? He could have said brother, or cousin, or any number of other relatives; why was husband the first thing that came out of his mouth?

The nurse's eyes softened. "What can you tell me about her medical history? Allergies, medications, pre-existing conditions?"

Dean shook his head. "We, uh… we haven't… it's kind of a new… thing."

She cocked an eyebrow. "Alright, we'll start with something simpler. "Age? Family?" Dean blew out a breath and the nurse sighed. "Do you even know the girl's name?"

"Allison! Her name is Allison. God, can you just tell me if she's gonna be alright?" He hoped he could pass off the ignorance as a byproduct of trauma and stress, but she just stared at him with skepticism. "Look, I made a promise to do everything in my power to protect that girl in there, no matter what." Dean ran a hand along the stubble of his chin and flopped into one of the waiting room chairs. "And so far I'm failing miserably."

As the nurse watched him slump into his seat, defeated, she took pity on him. Whatever he was to her, he clearly cared a great deal about her. "I'll see what I can find out," she promised, giving his knee a gentle pat before disappearing through the hospital doors.

About an hour later, she reappeared, practically beaming. Dean stood to his feet, encouraged by the pleasant look on her face.

"Is she…"

"Come with me," she said, trying and failing to maintain a professional neutrality. "I'll let her tell you the good news herself." Dean had no idea what she was talking about, and his confused expression only served to widen her grin. They stopped outside a small room where several machines could be heard beeping in a steady, rhythmic pattern.

Dean walked to the side of her bed and she reached out and clasped his hand. "Hey, sweetheart," he said, only partly to appease the woman who was still watching them from the doorway. He half-sat on the bed next to her thigh and rubbed circles on the back of her hand with his thumb. "You look like shit."

Allison laughed, and the sound relieved all the tension that Dean hadn't realized he'd been holding. "You should look in a mirror," she countered.

"I'll just give you two some privacy," the nurse whispered with a wink, quietly shutting the door behind her.

"What's with her?"

Allison shrugged. "Maybe she thinks you're cute."

Dean pursed his lips. "I think she thinks we're cute." Allison raised her eyebrows and Dean smirked. "Had to tell them something to get them to let me in this room, Mrs. Winchester." He'd meant the words to be friendly, teasing, but they left an uncomfortable, almost aching silence in their wake. Dean cleared his throat. "You know, you were kinda badass back there. Sorry I, uh… couldn't keep up."

Allison pushed herself up to a seated position; she wrapped herself around his upper arm, resting her chin on his shoulder. "You've already done more for me than I could ever repay."

He shook his head, which hung low. "I haven't done anything except almost get you killed." He looked toward the door and then up at the ceiling. "You were better off with Cas." She didn't respond, and he took her silence as agreement.

But Dean was wrong. Castiel was a lot of things – a good warrior with a good heart – but he wasn't human, and Allison still wasn't sure of the motives or intentions behind the care he provided for her. Still, her presence was putting Dean at risk and she wouldn't remain with him if he didn't want her there.

"Dean, you kind of just got dropped into the middle of my life. You are obviously a good friend to Castiel, but… this isn't going to stop anytime soon. I'm dangerous to be around, and…" She took a deep breath and steeled herself to close off yet another door within her heart. "I'm not your burden to bear."

"Who said anything about a burden?" Dean had been so busy dealing with his own guilt that he didn't recognize it blossoming inside the girl on his arm. She wouldn't even look him in the eye, and he tried to lighten the mood. "Hey, we are fake married now. You are my fake wife, in sickness and in health. And that is not a fake vow I take lightly…"

"Dean," she began, a pleading look in her eye.

"Listen, with all the crap that I've been through over the past few years – hell, through my entire life – a few demon attacks doesn't even make an honorable mention. More like… just another Tuesday."

"But… you don't know everything."

Dean smirked. "Yeah, I'm kinda getting that feeling." When did he ever have the luxury of knowing everything?

The same overly invested nurse poked her head in. "Lunch time!" she announced, pushing the door wide open with her hip and wheeling in a cart behind her. "Gotta keep that strength up, now," she chided in a motherly tone, looking knowingly between Allison and Dean.

"Wha –"

"You still haven't told him?" she tsk-ed again. "Better get to it before the doctor comes in. Won't be any hiding it then," she said with a wink, practically dancing out the door again.

"Seriously, what is with her?"

Allison didn't have time to answer before the vile smell of hospital food accosted her nose; she leaned over the bed and retched into the conveniently placed bucket. There was very little in her stomach, so what came up was a painful mixture of stomach acid and bile that burned her throat and caused her eyes to water.

"Hey, are you okay? I thought they said you were okay." Dean was about to get up and find a nurse when he saw that the doctor was already standing at the threshold. "Hey, doc, is something wrong?"

The man was young and good looking, but the stress of his job had etched a few extra creases into his brow and the corners of his mouth. In this instance, though, they were turned up into a smile; an expression the trauma surgeon probably rarely got to wear. "A common, if entirely unpleasant, side effect I'm afraid." Dean assumed he was talking about whatever pain meds they'd given Allison. "I'm Dr. Stevens." He reached out his hand, shaking first Dean's, then Allison's. "Nice to finally see you with your eyes open."

"Thank you," she said, "and sorry about the…" she gestured to the side of the bed and Dr. Stevens laughed.

"Believe me, these four walls have seen worse." Allison reclined back in the bed, wincing as her bruised body made contact with the hard hospital mattress. "Easy now," he said, offering a hand to help ease her down. Dean frowned; sure, he wasn't actually Allison's husband, but this guy didn't know that.

"How long does she need to stay here?"

Dr. Stevens gave Dean a disapproving look. "We can't exactly kick her out the door; she's been through quite an ordeal."

Dean narrowed his eyes. "You have no idea." The doctor's obvious flirting already grated on his nerves; whatever, he could deal with some petty jealousy. But now there was the implication that Dean didn't have Allison's best interest in mind, and that he took offense at.

Allison's eyes flicked to Dean and she noted the clenched jaw, the hard set to his eyes. The tension was billowing off him in waves, and it wasn't without warrant. They were like sitting ducks here. Dean was right; if she got a clean bill of health, they should get out of there as soon as possible.

"You didn't answer my husband's question," she said almost too innocently. The doctor glanced down at her left hand, which was noticeably bare, but didn't comment. Dean couldn't stop the smug half-smile that broke across his face out of some prehistoric masculine pride.

Dr. Stevens pursed his lips. "Technically, you are free to be discharged. But it is my recommendation that you remain here at least another day for monitoring."

"Thanks, doc. We'll, uh, take it under advisement." Dean grinned widely at him and gave a satisfied nod when he trudged back out of the room.

"Feel better?" Allison asked, rolling her eyes.

"He was being a dick."

"Doctors are notorious for their giant egos. Not unlike other professions I know…"

"Well you know what they say about guys with big egos." Allison closed her eyes and gave a small, sad shake of her head. "Seriously, you okay though?"

Allison thought about it; she'd been better, but she'd live, and Dean felt guilty enough as it was. "I'm okay. But we might wanna get out of here before I have to witness another goddamn pissing contest."

They snuck out the staff entrance and tore away in Dean's iconic masterpiece of a car. Allison's rumbling stomach could be heard even over the roar of the powerful engine and Dean cocked an eyebrow at her.

"I didn't get to eat lunch," she whined. "Or breakfast, for that matter."

"Well," he glanced at the back seat in the rearview mirror, "we've got beer and Oreos."

Allison wrinkled her nose, but soon gave in and reached back to snag the large pack of Double Stuf Oreos. She yanked back the pull tab and grabbed one straight out of the middle. With practiced precision, she twisted off one cookie side and popped it into her mouth; when that was gone, she licked off the white center until there was none left, then popped the remaining cookie in her mouth.

Dean watched with amusement as she repeated this same process with one Oreo after another, until all the easily accessible ones were picked clean. She looked up at him sheepishly, then closed the package and tossed them in the back seat.

"Don't stop on my account." In fact, he rather enjoyed watching her tongue swirl around the sweet, hydrogenated cream.

She punched his arm playfully. "I am going to need some real food eventually."

By the time they'd crossed state lines, Allison had finished off the rest of the Oreos and Dean was starting to wonder how such a tiny person could consume so much food. Where did it go? And how in the hell was she still hungry?

"Ooh! How about this barbeque place?" She pointed excitedly out the window to a run-down hole-in-the-wall restaurant. "They've got a picture of a pig on the sign, so you know it's gotta be good!"

Well, it had to be better than whatever salt-free, low-fat, grass-fed establishment Sam always tried to drag him to. He swung into a parking space and Allison threw open the passenger door.

They sat across from each other and Dean marveled at how she single-handedly managed to put away an order of onion rings, cole slaw, hush puppies, and a pork slider.

"What?" she asked, the sound muffled behind the mass of saucy meat currently occupying her mouth.

Dean held his hands up in surrender. "Nothing. Just… never seen a girl eat like that."

She grinned at him, but it quickly turned into a grimace and she scooted herself away from the table, making a beeline toward the back.

"Hey!" Dean called, jumping out of his seat to follow after her. He'd recognized the look – it was the same one he'd seen in the hospital right before she tossed her cookies. Normally he would have given her some space, some privacy; but considering what had happened the last time he left her alone for two minutes…

The restaurant was small and only had two single-use bathrooms. He paused outside the first and heard, well, exactly what you would expect to hear coming from inside. Dean moved to the other one and the muffled sounds of coughing. The door was still unlocked, and he came in to find Allison praying to the porcelain god.

She flushed the toilet quickly, but it's not like she could hide what had just happened. Dean stepped halfway back out the door and flagged down one of the wait staff.

"Can we get a clean towel in here? Thanks." A few seconds later, Dean reentered the bathroom and closed and locked the door behind him. He ran some cold water in the sink and soaked the cloth; he offered it to Allison, but before she could take it she spun back around and heaved up some more of her massive dinner.

Dean wasn't quite sure what to do; despite all that they'd been through, he didn't really know anything about her. Like whether she'd find his assistance welcome or invasive. So he stood awkwardly to the side until she was done, then offered her the cool cloth again. Allison snatched it out of his hand with a groan, dabbing at the corners of her mouth and wiping at her forehead before folding it up and laying it across the back of her neck.

"Must have been some powerful painkillers the hospital gave you," Dean commented, wrinkling his nose.

"Dean."

"And I knew there was no way you had enough space to pack away that much food."

"Dean." She gave him an exasperated look.

He smiled and offered his hand, pulling her to her feet. They boxed up the leftovers – getting a to-go dessert for later – and checked into a motel a few miles down the road. It was a little early still, but Dean didn't want to risk exposing Baby to any unexpected bodily fluids.

Dean had been sure to get a room with two beds that night; they had a long drive ahead of them if they were gonna make it back to the bunker the next day. He smiled at the way Allison's tiny body took up the entirety of the bed; it appeared she could make herself as compact or sprawling as she wanted.

Dean was a light sleeper in general – a handy trait acquired after years of getting shot or stabbed or cursed all the damn time – and cracked his eyes open when he heard a soft moan coming from the bed to his left. Allison's eyes were still shut but she was muttering unintelligibly, fidgeting in the bed until she settled onto her back. He was dozing, almost asleep again, when she screamed.

Dean shot up in bed and scanned the room, but all he saw was Allison; she was in the center of the bed, her back lifted in a painful arch, clutching the sheets in tightly balled fists. The sound had stopped, but her face was still contorted in a mask of silent terror and she was shaking.

"Allison? Allison!" Dean grabbed her roughly by the shoulders and tried to shake her awake. She fought against his grip, swatting at his arms and face. "Ow, hey, stop that. Wake up. Wake up!" He finally clamped his hands around her wrists and anchored them beside her waist. With one final strangled whine, her eyes popped open and tears streamed down her cheeks. "It's alright, you're alright," he assured her, though she had dissolved into hysterical sobs.

Allison tried several times to speak – to explain, to apologize – but the sounds coming from her throat predated language, and honestly she wasn't sure she could even articulate what in her nightmare had elicited such an overreaction. It just felt so real and she thought for sure she was going to die and she was scared and now this man that she barely knew was the only person in the world looking out for her and… and it was all just too much.

She threw her arms around his neck and buried her face in his chest. Dean was a little taken aback by the sudden intimacy, but in his empathy could not resist wrapping his arms around her. He scooted closer until she was practically in his lap, cradling her against him until she had calmed down.

"I swear… I'm not… a dramatic… person," she managed between sniffs and hiccups.

"'S alright, my brother's a bit of a drama queen. At least you've got a good reason to be a little cuckoo." Dean smiled, recalling the time he ate the last of what was apparently Sam's special whole grain hippie bread and the kid lost his damn mind over it; didn't speak to Dean for a solid week. "So, you good now?" he asked, looking down into her swollen eyes. She nodded and he moved to get up, but paused when he could have sworn he heard her whimper. "Allison?"

Allison cast her eyes down, embarrassed, and bit her lip. She was still rattled, but god, could she really ask a hardened hunter to cuddle in an attempt to keep away the bad dreams? He hooked a finger under her chin and brought her eyes back to his; they were curious, concerned, but not patronizing or judgmental. "Could you… would you mind –" She blew out a breath and rolled her eyes at her own awkwardness. "Stay? Here, with me?" His eyes widened and she shook her head. "Never mind, you don't have to. Forget it. I'm fine."

"No, no, it's… fine, I guess." It wasn't exactly an enthusiastic acceptance, but that was the last thing Dean had expected her to say; he was still fairly certain that Allison was keeping something from him, and so he was surprised that she would request his presence, that she found it comforting. Her brows drew together in concern and he cupped a hand around her shoulder. "Lay back down," he instructed, giving her arm a gentle nudge.

Allison slid slowly to a horizontal position and Dean followed suit. Though he would never admit it, he secretly liked being the little spoon; unfortunately for him, this was a big spoon kind of a situation, so he manned up and pulled her flush against him. She used his bicep as a pillow and he draped an arm over her waist, which she promptly hugged against her chest like a child with a stuffed animal.

Dean was awakened when Allison slipped out of his grasp; she padded over quietly but quickly toward the bathroom, softly clicking the door shut behind her. He was slightly appeased when the water for the shower turned on, but it still didn't quite drown out the sound of Allison throwing up some more. Enough time had passed that any meds she'd had at the hospital would be out of her system. But the hospital had also given her a clean bill of health. Dean was missing something.

"What the –" The room was filled with light when two men appeared in the middle of the floor. With a flick of their wrists, matching angel blades appeared in their hands and they took a few steps toward him. "Shit."

Dean scrambled to the far corner of the room and cut into his hand, hastily painting the Enochian sigil for 'get lost' onto the wall. The two angels reached the bathroom door and kicked it in, eliciting a surprised squeal from its occupant – obviously their intended target. Dean slammed his palm into the center of the symbol just before they crossed the threshold, banishing them from the area in one blinding burst.

He sat there for a moment, trying to quell the rush of adrenaline and sort out what the hell was going on. That was three attacks – from both regions of the afterlife – in a matter of days. Dean was used to going in half-cocked, but this was getting ridiculous.

"Cas? Cas! Get your angelic ass down here right now!" The angel must have heard the irritated determination in his tone, because he appeared right behind him.

"What is it, Dean?" he asked gruffly.

"You owe me some answers. What the hell is going on with her?" he asked, pointing toward what had been the bathroom door. "What is so damn special about her that she's got angels and demons and god knows what else out for her head?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing. Nothing? Seriously, Cas?" His fist twitched, desperately wanting to collide with the angel's expressionless mug.

"I am always serious. Allison is of little import to the supernatural realm. The child she carries in her womb, however, is quite valuable and extraordinary."

Dean's heart stopped for a beat as his mind tried to replay Cas's last words. "I'm sorry, the who in her what now?"

"The child, Dean, pay attention. It's a Seer – conceived from the lineages of both angels and demons, it is cloaked from their detection and can recognize their true forms within any vessel. It is even believed to be able to locate any angel or demon that walks the earth. Thus the name – sees all, seen by none. Both sides either want to kill it or use it."

"Allison's… she's pregnant?" Allison chose that moment to peek out of the bathroom and froze as he balked at her. "You're pregnant?" He wasn't sure why, but the revelation almost made him feel… hurt. Betrayed.

Cas scrunched his eyebrows together. "You didn't tell him?"

"You didn't tell him?" she countered with a hiss, wrapping her arms defensively around her midsection.

"SOMEbody shoulda friggin' told me!" Dean threw his hands up in exasperation. She flinched, a guilty look plastered across her face. Good.

"Look – I am sorry some things apparently got lost in the exchange." Dean snorted at the understatement. "And I don't know why you have been driving so far out of the way, but it needs to stop. You need to get her back to the bunker as soon as possible."

"And then what, Cas? We play house for the next nine months?"

"Technically, she is already halfway through her first trimester, so –"

"Damnit, Cas, that is so not the point right now." Dean sighed and rubbed his palm against the stubble growing on his chin.

"Dean. Please. This is important to me. I cannot let that child get into the wrong hands." Allison flinched. The action didn't escape Dean's notice, but he was still too worked up to read into it at the moment. He grabbed his leather jacket from the end of the bed and slung it over his shoulders. "Where are you going?"

"I need a drink," he said, retrieving the car keys from his front pocket.

"You cannot leave her unattend—"

"Then you watch her!" The words had been harsher and more derogatory than he intended, but Cas looked more disappointed than angry.

"I'll be fine for a few hours, Castiel," Allison assured him, wrapping her hand around his forearm and giving it a little squeeze. "Promise."

Dean spun around and threw open the door, not bothering to look back and see whether or not the angel had stayed.