Life calmed down after that. I gained some good memories, learned some hard memories. I started to feel less like my 23 year old self and more like my pregnant, 31 year old mother-self. I worked our Hunter hub and reinitiated myself into my own promotion company. Funnily enough I called it 'The Hunt'. Irrelevant, while sitting and enjoying the adult company that remained from Robbie's birthday party, we got a call from the FBI phone. I got up for it, beginning to struggle with the imbalance in weight I was now carrying.

After the demon-tenticle incident I was fine and the baby was fine. So we moved on. Dean disappeared with Sam for three weeks and I guess they took care of the root of that supernatural problem. But of course, getting rid of one problem only allows room for another.

I answered the phone and a sound like nothing I could recognise flew down the line. I tossed the phone away from my ear and it exploded. The room grew quiet behind me. Dean was at my back fast asking if I was okay with his eyes. I frowned at the smouldering old phone. I asked the neighbours that hadn't been exposed to the reality of the unreal to go home for the night. They offered to stay but the perk of pregnancy is sticking your hand to your stomach and encouraging people to do what you ask works. Once we pretended everything was alright and bid everyone goodnight, I turned to Dean and described the sound on the phone. He poured a whisky for his self, turned on ACDC for me, and we hit the books.

Robbie appeared downstairs, rubbing his eyes. I stretched my hand out to him.

"Shouldn't you be in bed?" Dean asked him, but aimed the words at me.

"Five minutes won't hurt. Will you help mum and dad?"

He nodded,

"What monster's scream?" Dean asked him.

"A banshee." He said.

"Good." I smiled, knowing that wasn't all they did.

"A ghost." He offered. Dean picked him up, sat him on his knee and nodded.

"Angels."

That face I had seen in the bathroom flashed before me. Dean's facial expression told me he had noticed I'd realised something.

"Cas'!" Dean called and Robbie's little eyes lit up and searched the room. I looked for him too but he did not appear, "Cas' we need you."

Still nothing. Robbie opted to go to bed on his own and Dean and I stared at the books strewn across the table. Nothing.

I heard a crash that woke me up and Dean must have heard it too. We both sat upright in our beds and listened for another sound.

"Dean!"

Unmistakably Castiel's voice. We hurried to him. He kneeled in the kitchen, steam snaking off his head and shoulders. He was burned, bloody and clearly exhausted. Dean went to his side, holding him up by the look of it and I gilled a glass to the brim with water. He doesn't drink but it might have made him feel better I guess. He took it and drank the contents before raising his head to us both and asking,

"Why did I have to fight angels just to get here?"