The next morning, Sam woke, sighing contently as he felt Rachel stir in his embrace. It felt like forever since he was able to just be with her in pure silence, forcing his fears down for the sake of the moment. As Rachel nestled her head against his chest, Sam rubbed her stomach. His lips parted as Robbie stirred within. It was something he didn't think he'd ever tire of, or not be amazed by. He watched as his son made Rachel's womb stretch and move. It seemed like he grew so much in such a short amount of time. Still, he knew the newborn would be so tiny, so innocent, so defenseless. "Please," he begged in barely a whisper, his fingers tracing over Rachel, "keep my family safe." He had no idea who he was talking to, but he had to try. "They don't deserve my curse." His peace was broken, silent tears rolling down his cheeks. "Please. I'll do anything. Just … Don't take them from me."

Sam swallowed back the sour taste that rose in his throat, knowing his prayer of sorts was in vain. No one was listening. And even if they were, Rachel's fate was sealed. Her grace would keep her alive. Too much of it might also change her, and ultimately take her from him. Still, he had to protect her and Robbie. They would use just enough to heal her, and absolutely no more.

Rachel murmured as she stirred, slowly blinking her eyes open to see Sam's wet cheeks. Her brow creased, and she shifted to look into his eyes. "Sammy?" she asked. "What's wrong?"

"It's okay," Sam replied, trying to force a smile as he leaned in and kissed her forehead.

"Not, it's not," she insisted, feeling his body tense. She scanned his face, reaching up to brush pieces of hair from his eyes. "And it's alright to be scared. I sure as hell am."

"I'm fine," Sam assured. He tightened his embrace, gently pressing her head to his chest. "Just rest."

Rachel drew lines over Sam's abdomen with a sigh. "Why do you keep doing this to yourself?"

Sam's nostrils flared a little. "Doing what?"

"Taking on this burden single-handedly. And taking on the guilt."

"If it weren't for me—"

"I'd be dead."

"Rachel—"

"No." Rachel propped herself up to look into his eyes. "You do this, every single time. You assume responsibility for every bad thing that happens."

Sam shook his head. "How can I not? I got you pregnant. I put you in this position."

"Stop," she snapped. "Sam, I'm a big girl. I chose to be with you, just as I chose to keep Robbie. Neither of those things are your responsibility alone."

Swallowing hard, Sam searched her eyes. "I can't lose you," he admitted, his voice shaky. "Not again. You're …" With a sniff, he looked away, his jaw ticking as he gritted his teeth. "I thought before I knew what love was," he continued softly. "And maybe, in some ways, I did. But I know I've never cared for someone like I do you, and I won't ever again." He flicked his gaze back to her, ignoring the rogue tear that escaped down his face. "I'd do anything for you. You're my world. You, Robbie … you're my heart, outside of my body." He shut his eyes momentarily. "But I'm cursed, Rachel. I've destined you both to die."

"Look at me," Rachel ordered, pulling him to sit up with her. Sam opened his eyes, but kept his focus on her womb. "Samuel Winchester, look at me." With a tightened mouth, Sam looked up at Rachel, hating himself more with each passing second. "You said so yourself, we're gonna be fine."

"Yeah, well, I lied," Sam growled, pushing up away from her and off the bed. He drew in sharp breaths through his nose, his heart racing with his anger. "You'll both die, because that's what happens to people I even remotely care about, let alone to you." He turned, eyeing her. "The only way to protect you is to take you from me, and it kills me to know that."

"We don't know what will happen if my grace is restored," Rachel countered. "You're making an assumption that I'll turn into some asshat like Michael. I'm half human, remember?"

His voice was exasperated. "You've got archangel blood, Rachel, and that kinda trumps the human part." Sam ran a hand over his mouth, seeing the surprise in her eyes. "We think your mother was an archangel—either Selaphiel, Jegudiel, or Barachiel." His arm flopped to his side. "Cas can determine more, though."

"How?" Rachel asked quietly.

"An internal examination. A search for any essence of your grace." Sam's hands found his hips as he paced a couple steps away. "It's not … it's not a fun procedure. And my vote is absolutely not, but …" He turned, looking her over as she sat on the bed, her tank top bunched over her belly. Her stomach was perfectly rounded, so beautiful and fertile. It held incredible powerful over him. "But it's not my choice. It's yours."

"So, these archangels—they're female?"

"In so many words."

"Why aren't they more widely known?"

"From what I've gathered, Rome was afraid of angel worship, not to mention liberating women, so their powers were buried, letting Michael and his brothers be the obvious focus. Only men means men retain power."

"Maybe that's why she fell," Rachel mused to herself, glancing away. "Maybe she wanted out."

"Maybe."

She returned her focus to Sam. "So, you're afraid my grace will change me, right?"

"I'm afraid of a lot of things right now," Sam replied. "What will happen to you after administering grace is my number one." He stepped closer, running a hand through his hair. His bare chest rose and fell as he took a deep breath. "I don't want Cas to lay a finger on you, but it's not up to me."

Rachel examined Sam, then looked down, her hand finding her womb as Robbie stirred. She could see Sam watching out of the corner of her eye, feeling the pressure of her decision with his stare. "Will it hurt Robbie, the examination?" she asked, looking up at Sam. She saw his pained look that accompanied the darkness under his eyes.

"I don't know," Sam admitted, wetting his lips. "Cas said it would be painful, but not damaging."

She nodded, sucking in a breath. "Okay. I'll do it."

"Are you sure?" Sam stepped to the mattress, sitting next to Rachel. "Are you absolutely sure?"

"I am." Her eyes searched his. "Sam, if I can protect Robbie by having my grace, then—"

"Robbie will be fine," Sam objected. "The grace is for you. To protect you." He paused, swallowing hard with realization. "Rachel. You …" He shook his head, his lips pressing into a thin line. "You don't care, do you? You don't care about living as a human?"

Rachel's nerves flared. "I do, but … my priority is Robbie, not myself."

"You are my priority right now. Robbie will be stronger than maybe even Jack. I'm not worried about him."

"He's our son!"

"And he needs his mother." Sam took her hands, holding them firmly. "Robbie will be alright. I'm not letting you sacrifice your humanity unnecessarily."

"The full ability of my grace will make him stronger. And he will need it for those who will come after him."

Sam studied Rachel, shocked. "You want a full restoration?"

"If it can help—"

"No! The grace is to heal you. Period. Only enough to repair any damage. Not for him. For you."

"You said it was my choice," Rachel reminded him through narrowed eyes.

"Not anymore."

"Sam—"

"No, dammit!" Sam growled. "I won't let you do this!"

"You can't stop me," Rachel shot back, yanking her hands away from his.

Sam scoffed. "Well, isn't this familiar. So ready to dish yourself up as a sacrifice."

"And like you aren't, Mister Demon Blood Sucker?"

"That was different."

"How? How is it possibly different?"

"You were dying!"

"And Robbie—"

"No." Sam took her hands back into his. "Robbie will be fine, and I know you know that. Completely different than my deal with Lucifer. So, why don't you tell me the real reason why you'd like to go full-angel now?"

"Because I can protect all of you," Rachel snapped. "Alright? There. I said it." She held Sam's gaze. "When Michael comes knocking, do you honestly think Jack will be enough? Being a nephilim is supposed to make me stronger than my parent. And we could really use another archangel's powers in our back pocket right now."

Bile rushed up Sam's throat. Words wouldn't come for several moments, only harrowing fear and vile anger. His pulse rose, his jaw tightening as he thought of all of the bloody, dangerous possibilities within the span of seconds. Her body mangled by Michael, tortured and battered. "Absolutely not," he growled, eyes watering with his rage. "Are you insane?"

"Because I want to protect my family and my friends?" Rachel asked incredulously.

"Because you think I'd let you sacrifice yourself for us." His brow creased, his breath quickening. It was the closest he ever felt to a complete breakdown. "There's no way in hell I'd let you put yourself in the line of fire like that."

"Sam—"

"No!"

"You can't—"

"The hell I can't!" Sam felt the panic build to a nearly uncontrollable height. He moved his grip to Rachel's forearms, hands shaking, body trembling. "You're not doing this!" His fingers were like vices around her flesh. "You hear me, goddamnit? You're not doing this!"

Rachel swallowed hard, wincing under Sam's grip. She knew she had scared him beyond belief, but he was still hurting her. "Let go of me," she warned, her voice low and even. Sam didn't reply. He loosened his grip a miniscule amount, fear still driving him as he scanned her eyes. All he could see was the woman he loved being gutted by an angel blade. He was back in the barn at Denning's farm, cradling her limp body, her blood he spilt soaking his shirt. "I mean it, Sam," she warned. "Let go of me now."

With force neither of them expected, Sam was ripped apart from Rachel, thrown roughly backward by an unseen force. His broad body crashed through the bunker bedroom door, splintering the wood as he collided against the hallway wall with a crack. Horrified, Rachel stood from the bed, seeing Sam groan and attempt to stand. Again, he was forced down by the unseen power, his body sliding across the floor to the end of the hall. "Sam!" Rachel screamed, following him. As Sam was slammed into another wall, she paused, her hand finding her exposed stomach with shock and realization. "Robbie." Her son was defending her; he had sensed his mother's panic. If the unborn child with angel and demon blood was strong enough to take down his father from the womb despite the wardings, how strong would he be when he was born, or when he grew? "Robbie, please," she begged, seeing how Sam struggled against a grip around his throat. She stroked her stomach, covering it with her tank top. "It's Daddy. It's okay. Please. Let him go."

A few moments later, Sam collapsed to the ground, sucking in a breath with a raspy cough. His legs were shaky, but he managed to stand up just as Dean came flying down the hall. Dean looked between Rachel and Sam. "What the hell happened?" he demanded, gaping in surprise at the door.

"It's okay," Sam said before Rachel could speak, keeping his eyes locked on hers. He swallowed back a wince as he straightened, feeling the ache in his ribs from the impact.

"The hell it is," Dean argued. He examined Rachel, who ducked her eyes down.

"It was my fault," Sam replied, stepping forward. He tried to push down his nerves as Dean eyed him. "I got pissed. I overreacted."

Dean tilted his chin up a bit as he looked Sam over for a long moment. "Put some clothes on. We need to talk."

Watching Dean leave, Sam guided Rachel back into their room, minding the busted door. "Listen to me," he said, urgency in his voice, "we obviously need to talk about what happened, but for right now, we need to keep Robbie's power from everyone else."

Rachel blinked hard, trying to quell the surge of various emotions that ran through her. She was still pissed at Sam, but understanding of his fear regarding exposing Robbie's power. "Okay," she replied. She watched Sam dress, moving to get her own pants from her drawer. As she tugged them on, she felt like she was exerting considerably more effort than she was used to. Her stomach seemed like it had grown so much in just the span of a week. She was just about six months along, but her womb was ginormous, it seemed. Nearly like she was to term.

Lips parting, Rachel looked to Sam, whose back was turned to her. "Wait," she whispered, eyes wide, "if Robbie is technically a nephilim …" Her throat dried out. "Oh God!" she gasped as Sam turned to face her, pausing as he buttoned his shirt.

"What's wrong?" he asked, searching her eyes. He crossed to her, cupping her cheek. She looked pale. "Baby, talk to me."

"I'm almost six months pregnant."

"... I know."

"No, dammit!" Rachel felt the panic swirl within. "I'm almost six months pregnant with a technical nephilim, Sam."

It took a couple beats, but then Sam's expression shifted dramatically. Confusion was replaced by horror and fear. His hand slipped from her cheek, finding its way to cover his own mouth, burying the blatant terror he felt. "Fuck," he whispered.

Nephilim gestation was shorter by three months. Robbie was coming a lot sooner than planned. And he didn't have any grace to protect Rachel with.