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Rachel turned around, cursing in a whisper as she saw through the shadows Sam looking down at her, wearing only a pair of sweatpants. "Sam!" she whispered in shock, trying to catch her breath.

Sam took her away from Dean's door, leading her back to their room. "Sam, you scared the shit out of me!" Rachel said when he shut the door.

"I'm sorry," Sam replied, taking her into his arms, attempting to calm her as he pressed her to himself, fingers tight around her. "I couldn't sleep."

"Where were you?"

"Archives. I was looking to see if I could find anything to help track down Gabriel."

Rachel pulled away from Sam, looking into his eyes. "Any luck?"

"I didn't find anything we didn't already know," he sighed, playing with her hair.

Her brow furrowed; Rachel reached up and dabbed at Sam's lip. "You're bleeding," she murmured, withdrawing her finger and showing him.

"Really?" He wiped it away from her finger. "Guess I, uh, cut my lip chewing on it." He swiped his mouth with the back of his hand, only a small dab more left behind. "I'll be right back," he said quickly, seeming flustered. "Gonna go wash my face."

"You okay?" Rachel asked, studying him.

Sam nodded. "Yeah, I'm good. I'll be right back."

He slipped out of the room, quickly heading for the bathroom. Flicking on the light, he examined his reflection in the mirror, wiping at the smeared blood near his lip. "Shit." His hands shook as he turned on the water, letting it run for a moment before he splashed some on his face and scrubbed at his skin. When he was done, he shut the water off with a blind hand, snagging a nearby towel and pressing it to his face. Sam exhaled, blotting the towel over himself, failing to calm the shake to his hands. He lowered the towel, exposing his reflection in the mirror. The man he saw, he barely recognized. He swallowed, tossing the fabric down on the counter with a growl and left the bathroom.

Rachel exhaled, watching in the small glow of the nightlight as Sam walked back into the room. He seemed mentally preoccupied, as he had earlier that night. There was a war happening in his mind, and she didn't know what was causing it, or how to help him fight it. "What's wrong?" she asked quietly as he settled in next to her, facing her.

Sam gave her a small smile, one that tugged on her heart. "I'm just worried," he replied, pinching the ends of her hair between his fingers. He rolled the strands between them, staring down at them as he laid on his side next to her.

"About the baby?"

"About both of you."

"Is that why you can't sleep?"

He laughed softly through his nose. "I haven't been able to sleep for about thirteen years now."

Rachel snuggled up to Sam, stroking his cheek. "I know something that might help," she said coyly, her hand sliding down his chest toward his pants.

Sam caught her wandering hand with a smirk. "Not now," he murmured, lacing his fingers through hers.

She pouted. "Why?"

"Because. You need to rest too."

"I will. When I'm done."

He shook his head, lifting her hand to his lips and kissing her knuckles. "No. All I need is you next to me."

She sighed. "Yeah, well that didn't work earlier."

"Baby girl, I'm used to not sleeping." He tucked her hair behind her ear. "You, though, need to rest. I need my best girl feeling good."

Rachel playfully arched a brow. "'Best girl,' huh?"

"Yeah. You're better than the others I have in storage."

"... Now that just sounds creepy."

Sam paused. "It does, doesn't it?" He chuckled, kissing her nose. "Sleep, sweetheart."

With a deep sigh, Rachel nestled into the crook of Sam's arm, her cheek pressed to his chest as she traced what she could see of his tattoo. She smiled as she felt him nuzzle her hair and his hand stroke her stomach under her shirt. "Have you thought about names?" she asked, feeling unable to sleep.

Sam smiled against her hair. "I have. Have you?"

"No. I feel bad."

"Why?"

"Because I …" She paused, feeling anxious. "Because I would want him to be named after someone important or special, and I don't have anyone in my life besides you, Dean, and Cas that fit the bill. And I'm not really into Juniors or direct copies."

Sam traced small circles over her womb. "I feel the same way. About naming him after someone special."

"Who were you thinking?"

"Well," Sam said, clearing his throat, "I …" He chuckled, a light flush coming over his cheeks. "I can't even lie. I've dreamt about having a son with you way before I knew he was mine."

Rachel pulled away a little and looked up into his eyes, her heart stopping. "Really?"

"Really." His hand moved from her stomach to her cheek, his fingers gliding over her skin. "In my dream, our son was named Robert Jonathan. Robbie for short. He was named after Bobby Singer and our dad, John Winchester."

Rachel's lips parted; she pulled away from him for a quick moment, rolling over to her nightstand, where she plucked the small, black stuffed dog Sam bought her in Cawker City. Laying on her back, she looked at the tag. "Sammy," she whispered with realization, looking at him with glassy eyes. "Is that why you …?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah." He caught the tear that dropped down her cheek with his thumb. "Don't cry, baby girl," he urged gently.

"It's perfect," Rachel whispered.

"Yeah?" Sam asked, hopeful.

She nodded, more tears falling. "Robbie," she whispered, her fingers skimming over her stomach. She sniffled, laughing at herself. "It's perfect. I love it." She reached up and kissed him, he returning it with his own. When they parted, she curled back into his embrace, holding the dog close as he resumed massaging her womb.

"I can't wait to feel him kick," Sam mused.

"Me too," Rachel agreed.

"And for when—" Sam paused, swallowing with a nervous smile. "For when I get to hold him. I already feel so big and clumsy," he admitted. "I'm afraid I'll break him."

Rachel laughed. "You won't break him, dufus."

Sam sighed contentedly. "We need a crib," he murmured. "And a changing table. And a car seat. And a stroller." He paused, swallowing. "Clothes. Diapers. Wipes."

Both were silent for a prolonged moment, each staring blankly with wide eyes as they thought about what was to come. "How are we buying all this?" Rachel asked.

"... I'll hustle people at pool?"

"And where are we putting all this?"

"We could always kick Dean out of his room," Sam shrugged. "Make him live in the Dean Cave."

"If it was only that easy." Rachel exhaled. "For real, though—where are we going to have a nursery?"

"Spare room?"

"Won't your mom be using that?"

Sam sighed. "Right. Um … We could convert the storage room?" Rachel's brow arched. "Yeah, bad idea," Sam murmured. "Well, I guess we will have to see if my mom can switch for another room in the second hall, then we can blow out the wall between our rooms for a doorway."

"Isn't the wall concrete? And like a foot thick?"

Sam pursed his lips in thought. "C4?"

Rachel patted Sam's firm stomach with a sigh. "Yeah, we'll figure this out when you've slept."

"What's wrong with C4?" Sam asked, confused.

"Other than you'll take the whole bunker down?"

Sam nodded slowly. "Riiiiight."

"It's a good thing you're cute," Rachel said, chuckling. "Goodnight, Moose."

"Hey," Sam said, poking her. "Be nice to me."

"Or what?" Sam tickled Rachel near her ribs, making her squeak. "Stop!" she protested through a laugh.

With a hearty chuckle, Sam stopped, drawing her close. "How'd I get so lucky?" he asked, sobering as he looked down at Rachel.

"Funny," Rachel said before they kissed, "I was just wondering the same thing."

Sam woke the next morning, the room still fairly dark, though light filtered in through the cracks of the doorway. Rachel was gone, the sheets on her side cool to the touch. He blinked slowly, feeling drugged as he tried to focus on the room around him. When was the last time he slept that well? He wasn't even sure. Far too long. Still, the emptiness beside him took away the pleasure, wanting nothing more in that moment than to cuddle with Rachel.

He stood with a stretch, enjoying the rest he felt in his body for a change. Digging through his clothes, he scraped an outfit together, just finishing threading and buckling his belt when his phone rang. He picked it up, seeing Dean's name. "Hey," he said.

"'Morning, Princess," Dean teased. Sam could hear he was driving. "Your girlfriend and I are running away together, so have a nice life."

Sam smirked, shaking his head. "She's not insane, Dean," he quipped.

"Yeah, well, tell her that."

Sam heard the phone being tossed. "Sammy?" Rachel said. "It's true. We're madly in love."

Putting the phone on speaker, Sam laughed and tugged a tee shirt over his head. "You'll come to your senses eventually," he replied, picking up the phone and heading into the kitchen.

"Not too sure about that. He promised me bacon."

Sam took the phone off of speaker, holding it to his ear. "Ah. Damn. I lost you for good, didn't I?"

"Pretty much. But we still feel sorry for you, so what do you want for breakfast?"

"An egg white omelette with kale, please."

"Would you like a side of responsibility to go with that?"

Sam laughed. "I'm trying to be healthy."

"Are you?" a man's voice asked next to Sam with snark. "Could've fooled me."

Sam jumped, turning toward the voice. He swallowed, eyes widening as he faced its owner. "Sam?" he heard Rachel ask on the phone.

"Yeah," Sam managed to her, "I'll, uh, see you when you get back." With a shaky hand, he hung up the phone, staring venomously at the man in front of him. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Lucifer fake frowned, crossing his arms over his chest. "Oh, come on, Sam. What, I can't even visit now? After all, I just wanted to see how Mommy and Junior were doing."

"Get. Out," Sam warned, nostrils flared.

"So, that's how you treat me, huh?" Lucifer sighed. "Kids these days. Give 'em everything they ask for, and what do they do? Treat you like crap."

"How the hell did you get in here?" Sam demanded.

"Well, I mean … it wasn't really that hard. Not warded against angels, remember?"

"So why just show up now?"

Lucifer shrugged. "I've been busy. You know, plotting the demise of an entire earth takes a lot of work. Not something you just throw together." He sighed. "Gotta say, I'm a little sad I won't be seeing Rach today." He leaned in, smirking. "I hear she's a stone cold fox." He paused. "She could really be stone cold. You know, if attitudes don't change."

"I've done what you wanted," Sam growled.

"And you're such a good little boy for it," Lucifer patronized with a contented sigh. "You're making America great again, Sammy. Tides are turning, thanks to my dashing new sidekick." He grinned. "I just love the look on their stupid rebel faces right before you kill 'em. It's fantastic. And when Junior gets going?" Lucifer clapped his hands together. "Whoo-boy. Can't wait."

Sam stepped closer, narrowing his eyes. "You listen to me: You won't be going anywhere near Rachel or my son."

Lucifer's brow wrinkled as he scoffed. "I'm practically the kid's grandfather at this point, don't you think?"

"I think you'd better get the hell out of here, right now."

"Well, I'm hurt, Sam," Lucifer said, feigning shock. "I mean, gosh. Here I am, thinking we could be one big happy family, and you're over here all indignant. But don't worry." He held up his hands. "I won't be around when Deano gets back. I like a good surprise just as much as anyone, but I need the stakes a little higher first." He sighed, leaning against the kitchen table as he looked around. "You know, this place hasn't changed in forever. I mean, you guys have a woman living here, and it still looks like a concrete bachelor pad. Not very child-friendly either. You might want to work on that before the big day. Don't want Junior hurting himself." Lucifer rolled his eyes when he saw Sam's hard glare. "Fine, I'll go. I can tell when I'm not wanted. Just remember though," he said, his tone a little cooler, "a positive attitude goes a long way for keeping relationships … alive." As he took a step away, he stopped. "Oh, and I meant to ask you—how'd you like that gift I sent last night, eh?" He held up his hands expectantly, waiting for Sam's reply. Sam stared back at him in disgust. "Oh, come on!" Exasperated, they flopped to his sides. "I know you had to be starving. I mean, a nice, fresh meal you barely had to work for? I'm better than GrubHub! You're probably feeling great this morning, so—" He winked. "—you're welcome."

"I didn't agree to any of this," Sam snarled.

"But you did agree to work with me, and I need you to keep your mojo going. So, don't mention it." As he turned away, he added over his shoulder, "Oh, and uh … tell the tyke Grampy is excited to meet him. His mom too. Mee-oww."

Lucifer disappeared. Alone, Sam fumed, slamming his fist onto the kitchen table. With Lucifer waltzing into the bunker, it was all too close now. If Sam thought dodging last night's bullet was bad, this was far, far worse. With a heavy sigh, Sam sat at the table, burying his face in his hands. There was no way to back out of this now. Too much was at stake. He was in too deep. Still, how could he keep going?