As anticipated by all parties, it took a while for Laurel to re-acclimate to life among the living. Her strange memory issues were the primary obstacle preventing all assembled from picking up where they left off with the quirky, caring, sweet lawyer and vigilante. She was more than that to each one of them, though: a sister, a lover, a friend, and a surrogate older sister, everything one could possibly think of being for someone. That was the essence of who Laurel was, but for the last three weeks she shambled around the bunker like a zombie. It was decidedly un-Laurel-like, and Crowley suggested some form of rehabilitation that sounded altogether unpleasant. It was quickly vetoed, as was Castiel's idea of simply using angelic magic or his grace to restore her. Thea and Dean were adamant that the Laurel they knew and loved was still in there and that she would come back in due time of her own accord.
On January 30th, Laurel woke up screaming as if someone had been, or was currently in the process of, torturing her or holding a loved one hostage in a scenario wherein she was powerless to do anything to change the outcome. While most nights she requested to sleep alone, she had finally become comfortable enough with the idea of Dean sleeping in the same room with her. "Green Eyes" was okay in her book. Given her memory issues she did not trust herself to remember everyone's names for the time being, and so elected to utilize various nicknames for the gang:
Dean was "Green Eyes", Thea was "Spunky" (born from an inaccurate remembrance of Speedy), Castiel was "Broody Trench Coat Guy", Crowley was "English", and with Sam she had taken to using Crowley's nickname of "Moose" for him.
On the night she tossed and turned and woke up screaming to wake up the dead, sobbing hysterically, Dean was with her in a heartbeat. He cradled her against his chest and stroked her hair as he used to.
"What is it, DL? Laurel, what's the matter?"
"I-I-I," she sputtered out in heaving gasps.
"Breathe, talk to me."
"I can't- I do- I can't remember his name! I'm terrible!"
"What are you talking about?"
"I can't remember his name, I can't do it. I can't remember his nameā¦" and she was a shivering, blubbery mess again. He couldn't get anything else out of her and resolved to let her return to sleep. He asked if she desired for him to stay up with her; she said no and that she was fine but she appreciated the offer. It took Dean a moment to realize, but eventually it dawned on him that she was referring to the child they lost when she died. Laurel adamantly believed the child to be a boy but couldn't land on a name. She thought she had more time to figure that part out. The hunter didn't press the issue, as he knew it would only serve to upset her further. He lay awake the rest of the night watching her through half-closed eyelids, a whisper of "It's okay, Laurel, I'm here" the last thing he said before she asked him to go back to his side of the room. He didn't know why he cared for her so much, or why it only transpired that they had gotten together a month before her murder, but he was glad to have her back in whatever shape she was in. They all were, and all of them (even Crowley!) were dedicated to her rehabilitation. Everyone was at a loss as to why Crowley was even bothering, including Rowena and Amara, and he was equally coy as to his reasons. Oh, yeah, Amara popped in for a quick visit during the second week. Laurel instantly recognized her and immediately went to hug her "savior". It was a friendly gesture, with which the primordial entity was only familiar in passing, but she returned it, albeit loosely, after a moment when Laurel whispered, very sincerely, "Thank you."
The morning of January 31st, Laurel was making breakfast with Thea when she doubled over in pain with a loud cry. "Aah!" The young brunette took her in to see Cas, who detected nothing outwardly or inwardly different about her. At least not at first. Then his demeanor changed and he began praying. Instantaneously, God- err, Chuck- appeared in his usual disheveled bathrobe and beard. He took one look at Laurel and smiled the first genuine smile any of the assembled had seen him give with the news he relayed:
"She's pregnant. Again. Or, rather, still is."
"What do you mean?" was the incredulous question posed by a six-member chorus.
"Laurel was pregnant when she died, and she was still pregnant- still is pregnant, syntax- when she was resurrected. If the embryo is developing on schedule, it should be hitting the 9-week mark here pretty soon."
"Well, who-" Laurel began, only to be cut of by Amara's coalescence from the shadows.
"It was another gift, little one. Think nothing of it."
Laurel's eyes filled with tears as she went to embrace Amara again. This time, the Darkness knew how to respond and enveloped the disoriented woman in her arms. Laurel sobbed happy tears into the crook of Amara's neck, into the red of her locks. She apologized even as she let her emotions take over and Amara only validated her response with a kind cooing and a stroke of Laurel's blonde hair.
Amara focused and soon the sound of a heartbeat, strong for its gestational age, permeated the room in which the eight were assembled.
To Laurel's ears, it was the most beautiful sound in the entire world and she most certainly wouldn't trade it for anything. Dean thought the same, as did Thea. Both had tears cascading down their faces the moment the heartbeat was audible.
"Thank you," she smiled at Amara with a sharp intake of breath to calm herself. Amara wiped at Laurel's tears and vanished again with a smile of her own.
"Thank you."
