The weeks passed slowly. At first I was too exhausted – both mentally and physically – to do much of anything. Sleep, eat, throw up, repeat. Dean, I learned, wasn't exactly happy about my decision either, or didn't understand it at least. But he accepted it. Sam and I were still at an impasse. We couldn't speak without arguing and it was wearing on both of us. I think he would've kicked me out already if he didn't know that the bunker was the only reasonably safe place for me.

We settled into an uncomfortable routine. The boys hunted and researched. I made dinner and fielded calls from the authorities as their "superior" as needed.

I was just over five months along and a well-defined little bump now stretched at the bottom of all my shirts. Cas, though he never ate, came over for dinner one night. We ate in silence, which was the norm as of late. I gathered up the dishes so the hunters could make their plans that didn't involve me.

I had just begun scrubbing Dean's particularly monstrous pie plate when a strange sensation rippled through my abdomen. It was like when you sipped champagne and the little bubbles popped and tickled your nose. I waited, but convinced myself that I had imagined the sensation. A few minutes later I felt it again, much stronger this time and still just as odd. I gasped and my hand flew to my stomach, sending the plate I'd been washing clattering into the sink and toppling over the rest of the dirty stack.

All three men came bursting into the kitchen, on edge and scanning for potential threats. All they found was a bewildered pregnant girl with silent tears streaming down her face. For the first time in a month, Sam came over without hesitation and grabbed me just like he used to. His hands found my face, gently brushing away the tears with his thumbs. I leaned into his touch, relishing the perfection of that single moment.

The spell was broken when I gazed into chocolate eyes filled with anger and anxiety. "What's wrong? Did it hurt you?" He glanced pointedly at the hand that rested below my navel. I shook my head and tried to speak, but the unusual bubbling sensation overtook me again and I couldn't help my sharp intake of breath. "Lana, please," he begged, getting more and more worried as the silence stretched on.

"She's… she's kicking," I managed to croak. Sam snatched his hands away from my face, once again returning to his guarded, passive demeanor. "Quick, Sam, give me your hand!" I reached out for his arm, but he backed away. In my joy I had forgotten our unspoken agreement to pretend like the baby didn't exist when we were in the same room together.

"Sam, we can't keep ignoring the fact that we are going to have a child together. And in case you hadn't noticed, I made it through my entire first trimester unscathed." I said it as a joke, but it was the truth. I ventured a step toward him; he didn't back away.

"You won't survive this. You're not strong enough, and I can't –"

"I'm not going to die, Sam. I'd never forgive myself if I missed out on raising our little girl." I said, trying to lighten the mood.

"I saw it," he said simply.

"What?" Dean and I both said at the same time. I had forgotten he and Cas were still there.

"I… saw it."

"What, like in one of those visions you used to get?" Dean asked incredulously. "When did you start getting those again?"

"After Gadreel moved out. After she told me about…" he waved a hand in my general direction, still refusing to call her a baby. She was still an "it" to him; a nameless, faceless threat that he felt responsible for but could do nothing about. If only he had heard her tiny heart beating. If only he could feel her gentle butterfly movements through my skin. "Lana, I thought I could change your mind. That if you really thought about it, you'd see what a terrible mistake this is." Though he had spoken similar words before, they still stung. "Now I've said everything there is to say. Cas told you the risks. I'm telling you, with 100% certainty, that you'll succumb to those risks. Now I'm begging you – please, please let go of this fantasy that you've been clinging to. We can have a future. You and me. Not… her," he said it like a curse. "You can't have both. You won't. So… choose."

His ultimatum caught me off guard. It was more than he'd spoken to me in a long time, and he was asking me to choose between my soulmate and my daughter. I never realized how much I loved Sam until we were completely cut off from each other; I've felt numb, like wherever I went, I wasn't all there. He was letting his guard down, just enough to let me see just how much pain he was in too. I wanted to run into his waiting arms and have him lift me off my feet. I wanted to kiss him everywhere, every day. I wanted to give him the future that he deserved after having already suffered so much.

I wanted all these things, but I knew they would never be enough. My heart had grown too large for Sam alone to fill. "I love her," I whispered so softly it was almost inaudible. And just like that, we both shattered. The careful façade that we'd constructed fell to shambles. Sam's breathing was labored and he punched several holes in the wall before leaving the bunker. Dean went after his brother while Cas stayed behind to look after me.

"Tell me I'm making the right choice," I begged the angel. He placed his hands on my shoulders.

"You are making the choice you believe is right," he stated unhelpfully. I sank to the floor and Cas joined me. A long while later a sound from the other room wafted to my ears through the melancholy silence. I didn't dare hope that Sam had come back.

"Dean?" I yelled. No answer. I began to get up – which was becoming more and more difficult – but Cas motioned for me to stay down. He rose silently and snuck his way over to the doorway and around the corner. I didn't know what he sensed that I hadn't, but now I was completely on edge. I heard a loud crash and my heart stopped for a beat.

Should I go out there? Normally I wouldn't have hesitated, but I couldn't just think about myself anymore. Cas could handle himself. Another crash, this time followed by a pained moan. I peeked my head around the corner.

"Where is she, Castiel?" Cas was locked into a corner, surrounded by four angels. At least, I assumed they were since they all had an angel blade aimed at Cas's vital organs.

"This doesn't concern you, Beliel."

"The Nephilim must die," the man holding Cas against the wall sneered. He seemed to be the strongest, the leader.

"The child has a soul. You have no right –" his sentence was cut short as Beliel's forearm jammed against his airway.

"I have been granted by heaven the mission of removing all worldy threats to our leadership. The demons could use this as a powerful weapon against us. The child must die." At this point Cas must have spotted me. We locked eyes only for a moment, but it didn't escape their notice.

I took off in the other direction, but I wasn't anywhere near as fast as an angel. I was quickly dragged back to the big open room, where my only help was still defenseless and trapped. I was thrown to the ground as the warrior angels glared at me like I was more disgusting than a demon. They were so focused on me, perhaps afraid of what was growing inside me, that they missed the two large figures that had slipped in through the shadows. I stared defiantly at Beliel.

"What? Are you not afraid? You should be…" he savored the threats rolling off his tongue. He leaned over me and reached out to brush my cheek. He smiled when I flinched, pleased that he'd gotten a reaction out of me. "You are beautiful, aren't you? Castiel may have convinced you that your boy was in control, but I don't believe for a second that Gadreel could have resisted indulging just a little bit… in the heat of the moment." I cast my head to the side, sickened by his words and the truth they could hold.

He didn't have time to deal another verbal blow before Sam and Dean made their move. They took down one immediately, having had the advantage of surprise. Cas fought one-on-one with the woman, while another beast of an angel was handling both the Winchesters. That left me and Beliel.

The fight was quickly lost. Sam and Dean were both pinned against the stone wall, their throats each held captive by one of their opponent's massive hands. Cas was handling himself, but when Beliel held his blade to my throat, he surrendered his weapon.

"You don't have to do this. Let her go, and the three of you can leave this place unharmed," Cas tried to reason.

"Like hell they can!" Dean croaked, quickly cut off by meaty fingers.

"Unlike you, Castiel, I obey orders. Without question," Beliel proudly responded.

"Then you are a fool," Cas responded coolly.

Clearly, Beliel did not like being ridiculed. In one swift motion, he brought the blade from my throat to my stomach. My hunter's instincts were fast and I tried to shift my body to protect the baby, but I wasn't quite quick enough. The sharp edge slid deep into my upper abdomen.

"NOOO!" I heard Sam scream, struggling desperately to free himself from the hands that bound him. Beliel released me and I slumped to the floor. I held my palm against the wound, but dark liquid streamed through my fingers and my hand was already shaking. The pain was enormous, but more unbearable was the knowledge that I had failed. Failed as a mother before my child was even born.

My hand cradled the little bump I would never get to meet. My body got colder as my warm blood spread in a large pool around me. I'd lost track of what was going on around me, but it seemed the angels had gone, left me for dead. And I was dying, I could feel that much. At least I was their only target, and the rest of my family was safe.

I could no longer hold my eyes open, but sensed when the boys had reached my side. Sam pulled my limp body into his lap and stroked my colorless cheeks. I wanted to tell him that it was ok. That it wasn't his fault. I didn't blame him, and he shouldn't blame himself. I wanted to tell him I loved him one more time, kiss him one more time.

"It wasn't supposed to happen like this. We had time!" He interlaced his fingers with my slick, bloodied ones.

He begged me to open my eyes. Sobbed when I couldn't. Everything began to feel distant and I could no longer feel my heart beating. Finally the man that I loved was returning those words, was asking me to stay with him, and I wanted nothing more than to oblige.

I searched deep within myself for something, anything to hold onto. What I found was a quick, but steady whoosh-whoosh-whoosh. My daughter was still alive and I could sense her; a pinprick of light penetrating the darkness that weighed me down. I focused on that spot, coming back to it every time I felt myself drifting. Sam, still holding my body, was gently rocking back and forth. The two rhythms complemented each other.

Slowly, ever so slowly, the light grew. The sound of my own heartbeat emerging from the deadly silence and the sudden flooding of blood through my veins was almost overwhelming. With these sensations came pain – like my whole body was enveloped in a blaze that originated from the wound in my stomach. But pain meant life, and I welcomed it.

When finally it felt like my broken body would be consumed by the flames, my back arched and I gasped much needed oxygen into my lungs. By the time I had collapsed back into Sam's arms, the pain was gone. Not just the burning heat, but also where the blade had sunk into my flesh.

I opened my eyes slowly. The room was dim but I still had to squint – as if my eyes were seeing for the first time and couldn't regulate how much light they let in. When they adjusted, I noticed that sure enough, my injuries were healed.

I met Sam's tear-filled eyes and pushed myself up to kiss him. He didn't return the kiss at first – afraid that this wasn't real, that he was imagining things. "It's me. It's me and I'm here. I stayed for you." I had pretty much died, but he was the one who needed comforting. I ran my fingers through his long hair and traced his strong jawline. "I love you," I whispered fervently, needing to utter the words that I never thought I'd get the chance to tell him.

This time he began the kiss. Slow at first – hesitant – but quickly growing in intensity. We gave in to all the desire and need that we'd been denying each other over the past weeks and a different kind of heat began to fill me. Perhaps in response to my body's current state, little champagne movements resonated through my stomach and I knew my little nugget was okay. Eventually someone – Dean – cleared his throat and brought us back to reality. Or whatever this paradise was.

"Don't mean to interrupt the, uh, makeup session; and… not that I'm not glad to see that you're not dead, but… just what in the hell just happened here?" Always tactful.

Everyone was staring at me, as if I was supposed to know what was going on. They waited for an explanation. "I… I think I was dead. Or… as close to it as you can be."

"Your heart stopped beating," Sam croaked, his voice cracking halfway through.

"I know. I felt it stop. I wanted to stay, but I started to drift away. And then…" I took a deep breath. Sam's feelings about our baby probably hadn't changed. If anything, this would probably solidify in his mind that her existence would mean the end of mine.

"What? What happened?" Sam asked, hanging on my every word.

"Then… Something broke through the silence." I tried to be nonspecific, but they clearly weren't satisfied by that response and continued to wait. "I heard her heart beating," I mumbled.

"What?" they all asked in unison.

I sighed. "The baby. I could… feel her life force inside me. Even when I couldn't feel my own." I looked around and the reactions ranged from skeptical to shocked to pensive. "She saved me."

Sam leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on my stomach, the light pressure more shocking than the piercing blade had been. "I owe you one, kiddo," he whispered, gingerly placing his large hand over her.

Tears streamed down my face. I forced Sam to look into my questioning eyes. He smiled sheepishly. "Kid can't be all bad if she brought you back to me," he explained. I threw my arms around his neck and hugged him tight enough to cause him to choke a little. A miracle had happened and we were going to be a family.

Cas, who had been deep in thought, mumbled "Yes. I think she did."

"Who? Did what?" Dean inquired, not so quick to accept that all these good things could be happening.

"The child. I did tell you that she would be… special. That is why the angels fear her. Why the demons want her." He thought for another moment. "It is likely that she can heal herself, which is why she survived. It is far less likely that she could heal others. Not actively, at least. But perhaps out of instinct. She would not survive if her host died –" I wrinkled my nose at his choice of words.

"Are you saying that kid literally, intentionally saved her life? So Sam's vision was wrong – it won't kill her?" Dean questioned, still guarded.

"That is my best guess," the angel responded gruffly.

"Be sure," he growled, impatient.

Cas sighed. "This is a unique situation, Dean. I am certain the child is human. I am certain she has angelic capabilities. But I cannot be certain of the future."

Dean nodded slowly. "Well in that case… I'm gonna have to be one kickass uncle, 'cause Sammy here doesn't know a damn thing about kids," he teased. Sam half-heartedly took a swing at him – which he easily dodged – but never let me out of his grasp.

"It's okay," I beamed at him. "I don't know a damn thing about kids either." I winked at him and he gave me a peck on the lips, managing to get a jab in on his brother while he appeared preoccupied. I allowed myself to enjoy this moment. For once, everything felt right. Easy. Normal. Too bad that was never gonna last.