Dean drummed his fingers on the maps table, eyeing Sam as he came into the room. He scanned his brother's knuckles, noting how the skin wasn't reddened or broken. If Sam busted the door without a weapon, his hands should've been snapped from the wrists. Dean's inspection moved upward, seeing how Sam's skin was paled. It wasn't because of his confrontation. Something else was very wrong. "Alright, you've got one chance here," Dean said, trying to keep his anger in check but failing. "First, you're going to swear on our mother you didn't touch Rachel, or so help me ..."
Sam's eyes widened. "You think I'd beat her?" he asked, both astonished and offended.
"That door was busted. You said, 'I overreacted.' Remember?"
"I'd never hurt her," Sam snarled, nostrils flared.
"Then tell me what happened," Dean countered stiffly. "Because you sure as hell have some explaining to do."
With a swallow, Sam shut his eyes. "It's … It was Robbie. Rachel and I were arguing, and he got scared. He threw me through the door."
Dean stared at him. "You mean your unborn son? The maybe two pound, half-baked human inside your girlfriend?"
"Yes."
"Dammit, Sam! I thought the kid only had the vision shit."
"He … He has other things."
"Like what, exactly?"
"Psychokinesis. Super strength. Probably more."
"And you didn't think it was important to tell me about it?" Dean asked, cocking his head to the side.
"I was afraid of your reaction, like now," Sam hissed, stepping closer and lowering his voice. "Dean, listen to me. We've got bigger problems than this at the moment."
"Bigger than your boy bun being strong enough to toss your giant ass through a thick, wood door?"
"Yes. It's Rachel."
"What about her?"
Sam's jaw ticked as he hesitated to answer. "She's nearly six months pregnant."
"...And?"
"And if she's a nephilim, then so is Robbie." Sam waited, seeing Dean fail to connect the dots. "She's almost at term, Dean!" he finally said through a harsh whisper. "Nephilim gestation is six months."
Dean's eyes rounded. "Oh shit. I didn't think of that."
"Neither did I, until Rachel noticed how much she had grown."
"Son of a bitch," Dean grumbled, pacing away. "Wait a minute. Cas said he was human."
"Yeah, well I'd say judging from Rachel's size and his strength, he's nearly to term."
"Cas!" Dean called out. A moment later, Castiel appeared in the maps room. "You said Robbie was human, right?"
"Yes," Castiel nodded.
"See?" Dean said to Sam.
"But," Castiel interrupted, "so is Jack, partially."
Both Dean and Sam eyed Castiel. "So now you decide to let us know he's only part human?" Sam scoffed.
"No," Castiel replied stiffly. "Look, nephilim detection isn't easy. Especially for a nephilim without grace. I felt the human part of him. I had no idea of the angelic blood, and I still don't read it."
"So she could be fine," Dean concluded.
"There's no way for me to know until the examination."
"Will it hurt them?" Sam asked, jaw ticking as he waited for Castiel's answer.
Castiel drew in a deep breath. "It won't be comfortable." He held up a hand as he saw Sam's reaction. "If Robbie does have powers, he will likely fight me during it. This will only prolong the pain for Rachel. We need to convince Robbie I'm not trying to hurt his mother. And that starts with a calm father."
Running a hand through his hair, Sam paced away with a grumble. How could he stand back and watch Rachel suffer like that? How could he convince Robbie it was the right thing to do when he didn't even know if it was himself?
Rachel tugged a hoodie tighter around herself as she came into the maps room, her expression pained as she met Sam's eyes. "Cas," she said softly, resting her hand on her stomach, "I'm ready."
Sam moved to her, gently taking hold of her shoulders as he blocked her from view. "Please," he whispered, "please …" He failed to finish, his throat drying out as he thought of what was to come.
Rachel stroked his cheek, seeing the anguish in Sam's eyes. "It'll be okay," she assured. "I need to do this."
"It doesn't mean I have to like it," Sam replied, rubbing her upper arms with his thumbs. "About earlier …"
"What's done is done," Rachel insisted. "I know you're scared, Sam. But I'll be okay." She cleared her throat, nodding down to her stomach suggestively.
"Right," Sam agreed, receiving her message. Success depended on his ability to convince Robbie of Rachel's safety. "I'll be right next to you."
They both turned, looking at Castiel and Dean. "Let's do this," Rachel said with squared shoulders.
Before she could let the worries take over, she slipped out of the room toward the sick bay. The three men followed, each scared by the possibilities, but none more than Sam. With tightly closed eyes, Sam took up the rear of the line as they processed toward the medical room. His hands balled into tight fists at his sides. The ache from Robbie's power remained in his body, rippling through him as he tensed his muscles. They would both survive her labor, Rachel and Robbie. He chanted the positive thought into his head with each step. His family would be fine. They had to be. He couldn't survive if they weren't.
When he entered the medical bay, he rushed to steady Rachel as she climbed into the examination chair. "Easy," he urged gently, seeing her wince. "You okay?"
"Yeah," she replied, "my back just hurts."
Sam took her hand, stroking it. "Massage after this, 'kay?"
Rachel nodded, only half hearing him. She was far too focused on what was to come. Her eyes were glued on Castiel as he removed his trench coat and rolled up his sleeves. When the angel turned to face her, she instinctively squeezed around Sam's hand. "I'm right here," Sam whispered. "If you want him to stop, you tell him, okay?"
"Okay," Rachel said, swallowing down her fear as Castiel moved to her other side. Dean was across from her leaning against the door, clearly in pain at the idea of what was to come.
"Are you ready?" Castiel asked.
"As I'll ever be."
With a nod, Castiel drew in a deep breath, slowly reaching toward the very top of her stomach. Rachel squeezed her eyes shut, and Sam felt his heart palpitate. His nerves flared as he watched Castiel's hand light up and disappear inside of her.
Rachel's scream pierced the air, and Sam's grip on her hand became nearly lethal. His stomach churned as he watched her grimace against the surface penetration, already feeling violent from watching not even ten seconds. Sweat beaded his brow, his pulse climbing at record speed. "Stop," Sam panicked, feeling ready to explode as Rachel cried out in pain.
"Sam!" Castiel barked. "You need to remain calm. You're not helping."
"Stop, dammit! You're hurting her!"
"Sammy," Dean interjected, "let him do his job, alright?"
"The hell with the job!"
"Sam," Rachel panted, opening her eyes to look into his. "I love you, but you need to go."
Sam's eyes widened. "I'm not leaving you."
Rachel sucked in a labored breath, her expression not one to be argued with. "Go now, Sam."
With a shaky arm, Sam released Rachel's hand, lingering momentarily to see her face scrunch up against Castiel's assault. Enraged, he left, nearly knocking Dean over as he bolted out of the room and slammed the door.
Pacing in the hall, Sam tugged on his hair, his eyes shut as he heard Rachel whimper and pant. He couldn't still himself. His entire being was aflame, molten hot with anger at Rachel's suffering. Sam couldn't erase the heavy load of blame that weighed him down, an inner voice nagging him to remind him how the entire situation was his fault, and his alone. Had he never chosen himself over her, she would've been safe. Or so his mind said.
Time passed through a sieve. Castiel's examination seemed to take hours, and there was only so much Sam could take hearing the woman he loved in agony. After a long, painful period of attempted calm, Rachel's shuddered cries and sniffing back tears muffled through the door finally pushed him over the edge. His fist collided with the wall in front of himself repeatedly. Streaks of blood painted the crumbled plaster, Sam growling through his knuckles tearing. Still, nothing would stop her screams. Nothing would take away her pain.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" he heard Dean say behind him; Sam didn't stop until his brother latched onto his arm mid-swing. "Easy, little brother," Dean urged. He felt Sam's arm shake in his grasp. "Easy." Slowly, he lowered it, swallowing hard. Sam's fists were torn, the skin mangled. "She's done," Dean said gently. "Cas found it."
"Is she—"
"She's fine. She and Little Man are sleeping to recover. Cas is going to work on tracking with her essence."
"And Robbie? Did he fight?"
Dean sniffed. "A little. But I promise, they're both okay."
Sam panted, his throat raw and dry. "Never again," he vowed, his tone dark. He kept his focus on his own blood stains. "No one touches her again. No one."
"Okay, Sammy," Dean assured, loosening his hold.
With gritted teeth, Sam moved away from Dean and burst into the examination room. Sam barely resisted shooting Castiel a dirty look, coming to Rachel's side. He stroked her cheek, moving the hair from her eyes. She looked peaceful, but he knew what he heard. The pain had been vicious.
Without a word, Sam took her into his arms, his hands pained as he lifted her to his chest. His muscles felt weaker than usual, from how he beat the wall, he imagined. Still, she needed better than a chair, and nothing would stop him from giving it to her.
Sam carried her out of the room and down the hall. His stomach sick, he laid her in their bed. With a kiss to her forehead and a stroke over her stomach, Sam pulled away from Rachel, sighing heavily. He couldn't rest. The urgency of tracking down a grace strong enough for her was at the forefront. Running a hand through his hair, he paused, finally noticing how wrecked his hands were. It didn't matter, though. He had work to do.
Castiel looked up at Sam as he entered the library. "Your hands," he murmured, watching Sam sit across from him. Castiel reached out and touched them, healing them.
"Tell me it was worth it," Sam demanded, his tone dark.
"Sam—"
"Cas, I swear—if you put her through that, and you don't have anything—"
"I do," Castiel assured. He watched as Sam waited, his eyes narrowly focused on him. "Her lineage is most certainly from Barachiel, the archangel of blessings. She was in charge of the guardians."
Sam was still trying to bury his anger as he listened. "You mean, guardian angels?"
"Yes. Thousands of years ago, Barachiel had nearly 500,000 ministering angels attending her. She's also regarded as the angel of lightning, of which I see Robbie has inherited."
"What are you talking about?"
"His power is very unique, Sam. As he fought me, I felt it. An angel's powers are much like an angel's grace—individual to the angel. His are certainly in Barachiel's vein."
"But she fell? Why?"
"Story has it, she didn't feel that being in heaven allowed her to properly protect the humans. She wanted to lead from the ground, but our Father forbade it. She was passionate, though. Stubborn."
Sam smirked a little. "Sounds familiar."
Castiel nodded. "She attempted to split her time between heaven and earth, but was cast down when God found out. For a time, she continued to lead the guardians. But once they learned she had no grace, they selected a new commander. Barachiel disappeared, and no one had heard of her since."
Shutting his eyes, Sam leaned his head against his hands. "So, now what? I mean, archangel grace isn't exactly highly available. So what do we do?"
"I can track Rachel's essence to where she was born. In every place where an angel is born, the ground becomes sacred and infused with power. It might be enough to siphon out."
"But … She's a nephilim. Born to a graceless mother."
"It's a long shot, but it's our only one."
Sam leaned back in his seat, resting his hands in his lap. His mental gears spun as he thought about nephilims. "Gavin," he murmured, remembering Vance Matthew's nephilim contact in Topeka. Gavin was on the inside—he could possibly get information. And spare grace.
"Gavin?" Dean asked as he entered the library. "You mean, nephilim waiter Gavin?"
Sam nodded. "If anyone has a line on her grace, or potential matches, it'd be him."
"You mean the Gavin who cohorts with nephilim sex traffickers?" Castiel asked, brows wrinkled.
"He's not wrong, Cas," Dean countered. "He might be our best shot at something quick."
"Quick? Why quick?"
"Rachel is nearly six months along," Sam replied with a swallow.
"We don't know if it will be her term, though."
Sam stood with a huff. "Yeah, well, I can't risk it." He drew in a deep breath. "I'll go check it out." He looked to his brother. "Dean, keep an eye on her, please."
"You got it," Dean replied.
"Sam, you shouldn't go alone," Castiel argued as Sam began to leave the room. "Nephilims are quite powerful."
"I need you both here with her and Robbie," Sam countered, swiping up an angel blade from the rack. "I'll be fine."
Before Castiel could argue further, Sam was gone.
