Holy crap! I haven't updated this since June?! Whoa. Sorry about that! Depression sure can suck your drive away. _ Hopefully now that the last of SPN is airing, I'll have the creative inspo to update more regularly. Thank you if you've read and/or reviewed this fic series—it means more than you likely know. Reads and reviews are always ALWAYS appreciated. xo
Sam was sure he died with the way his blood turned to ice. The empty space in front of him that Rachel had just occupied seemed to mock him for his childish belief in their connection. She said she would find him, but instead, she ran. Castiel said she wasn't strong enough to teleport, but that was likely before her second helping of grace … and before they realized she was pregnant with another hybrid child.
Wetting his lips, Sam refused to look in Ketch's direction. If he did, he would likely murder him. He had bigger things to focus on, like how the hell to find his fiancée and unborn child before demons or angels did. Silently, he stalked past Ketch toward the bunker, hot tears clouding his vision. When Robbie found out, he knew the boy would immediately suggest going after his mother. That was out of the question. He already lost Rachel and his other child. He couldn't lose Robbie too.
Dean met Sam's reddened eyes as he entered the maps room. He looked his younger brother over, clearly seeing the devastation that overwhelmed him. Robbie was nothing short of a perfect blessing to their family, but his birth had also taken his mother's life when he himself had minimal grace. The child Rachel now carried was likely conceived during the time when she did have grace. And it would only grow stronger with each passing day. Dean had witnessed first-hand the power his nephew held when he went in search for Rachel's soul—the same soul that flickered in Sam's pocket as he stepped toward his brother. Robbie had destroyed in one moment what a legion of guardians fought to create. And he knew that no one had any real idea of the true extent of his power. Not even Castiel.
So what would this second child be like?
Dean waited through Sam's hesitation. Then he got impatient. "Where is she?" he asked, eyeing Sam.
Sam's nostrils flared as he examined Dean's face. "Gone," he said flatly, his jaw tight.
Dean's brows knit together. "What the hell do you mean, gone?"
"She fucking teleported somewhere. Who knows," Sam snarled, the thread he was held together by snapping. "She left because she's scared out of her goddamn mind! Because I dragged her into my fucking curse." He shook his head, bitterness at himself making him scoff. "I knew I shouldn't have listened to you."
"Whoa whoa whoa," Dean interrupted, a hand up. "You're blaming me for this?"
"I should've let her go," Sam continued, his tone dark. "I should've left her in Nebraska and never looked back. But you pushed. And pushed. Then you decided you'd use myself against me by challenging me over her."
Dean scoffed, shaking his head. "So what, this is my fault? Right. For encouraging you to care for someone. Sure. It has absolutely nothing to do with your stupid ass not telling her the truth."
"How was I going to tell her the truth?" Sam shot back. "Dean, she shot me over the truth. I was trying to ease her into it all."
"Yeah, well that didn't work. And now you've got her panicked out there, by herself."
"I tried," Sam snarled. "I tried to help her, to walk her through it. She's not Rachel anymore. She's …" Sam paused, hating how bitter the words were on his tongue. "She's someone else. She won't let me in."
"Doesn't help that you shoved her away for three weeks," Dean remarked.
Sam glared at him. "I backed off because she wanted me to. She was going to leave if I didn't. That wasn't because I gave up."
Dean went to snap back, his anger at Rachel being so vulnerable trying to break through. Instead, he silently watched his brother, softening slowly. His heart clenched at the idea of Rachel being scared and alone with a ticking time bomb in her womb, let alone his brother's obvious devastation over it.
Sam's hands found his face, his fingertips digging into his brow as he covered his eyes—as if the barrier would somehow repaint his reality when he lifted it away. "I need Rowena," Sam murmured, trying to remain calm.
"Say you find her," Dean began softly, stepping toward Sam. "What's the next move?" He met his brother's eyes as Sam's hands fell from his face. "She's strong, Sammy," he continued gently. "Real strong. So is the baby." He paused, swallowing hard. "You're going to have to force her to take the soul. She won't stay otherwise. And she could hurt a lot of people if she's freaked out enough."
"Her soul could kill them both," Sam spat back.
Dean held up a hand. "Look, I know the risk isn't ideal. But do you really think you'll be able to hold her here until you find an alternative?"
Sam exhaled deeply. "I don't know, but how can I willingly risk killing my child or its mother … or both?"
Robbie quietly teleported into the room, his eyes locked on Sam as he approached. Sam felt his stomach sink at the boy's hurt. "Mom's gone again?" he asked softly.
Sam squatted down to his son's level, running a hand through his unkempt hair. It was Rachel's hair, midnight silk. "I'm going to find her," he assured him.
"Is she really pregnant?"
With a soft nod, Sam sniffed. "Yeah." He watched as the boy processed the information.
"So," Robbie said slowly, "if we give her the soul, I can bring her back if she dies like when she did with me."
Sam wet his lips. "Robbie, I don't … I don't know if that's possible. Your mom is a charged archangel nephilim. It's not … it's not quite like before. Plus, I can't risk losing you too."
The boy studied the floor for a long moment. "Then what are we gonna do?" he asked, looking back up at his father.
"I don't know," Sam admitted, blinking through fresh tears.
She figured teleporting wasn't an exact science for a beginner, but Rachel was more than confused about where she landed. She swallowed, looking around. Tall poles reached to the top of a domed greenhouse roof. The moon above lit the white surroundings with a gentle glow. Despite the serene coloring, there was something heavy and dark about where she stood, something that nipped at her heart. Darkness. She couldn't figure out what it was, but the power within her seemed to ache, tensing and twisting.
What the hell is this place? Rachel drew in a shuddered breath, trying not to panic. This wasn't what she asked for. Her heart raced as she tried to piece together where she was. Slowly she looked around as she moved across the dirt room toward an exit. Nothing seemed familiar. Why was she here?
She stopped, swearing she heard a sinister masculine laugh, one that froze the blood in her veins. Her hands flexed at her sides as her eyes darted around in the darkness. The energy within her seemed to cry out in pain, causing her to gasp. Pulse wild, she fled the greenhouse as fast as she could. The evil chuckle seemed to follow her, until she burst out into a field through the side door.
All at once, the chill left her body, and the voice ceased, leaving her with nothing more than the moonlight above and the peaceful chirp of crickets in the surrounding fields. A soft breeze ran over her, carrying a sweet scent that danced under her nose. I know that scent. The odd but strong recognition did nothing to set her mind at ease. Rachel bolted away from the greenhouse, determined to leave and never come back. Whatever evil was in there, she never wanted to hear, feel, or smell it again.
After what seemed like an hour of walking through the dark vast fields, Rachel sighed in relief when she saw the road's edge up ahead. She regained energy, happy that she was that much closer to civilization. Teleporting again was out of the question. First off, she couldn't trust it, apparently. Second, she knew that the more she used her power, the stronger her risk of being seen was. And despite her anger toward Sam for his secrets, she couldn't risk the child growing inside of her. She fled because it was the only safe thing to do. If she went with Ketch, the child might die. If she went with Sam, he might inadvertently kill it trying to restore her soul. She knew he wouldn't be able to resist having "his" Rachel back. But she had a choice, too. And this was hers.
When she reached the road, she drew in a deep breath and looked around. There were no streetlights, so it made it impossible to determine which way to head. Trying to gauge her location based on the moon, she made a left and began walking along the white line in the road's shoulder.
An hour passed before a truck slowed and rolled to a crawling stop next to her. The window slid down; a man with light brown hair narrowed his eyes at Rachel as she paused and met his gaze. Her stomach tightened. He seemed oddly familiar, but the recognition wasn't registering as pleasant. Nowhere near pleasant.
Ice flowed through her veins, a frigid chill overcoming her with a simple look. She turned away from him, trying to suppress her fear so to not enact her powers without control. Still, the truck followed at a painstakingly slow crawl, the man behind the wheel observing her. "You alright, Miss?" the driver asked; it seemed like he was holding back a bit of a smile.
"Fine," Rachel insisted, whipping her focus forward and quickly walking away.
The truck crawled alongside her. "It's gonna get real cold," the man continued. "I can give you a ride to town."
"I'm fine," she repeated, her tone stiff. It was a lie. She was freezing, tired, and starving.
"I know how it sounds and looks," he said. But we've got bears out here, and the weather isn't something to mess with." He watched as she slowed a little. "Please, Miss. Let me at least lend you my phone so you can make a call. Call the cops, if you want. Give them my plate number. Hell, give them my name."
Rachel stopped, looking the man over. His face seemed normal, no demonic distortion. Yet, everything in her screamed to run. She watched as he came to a stop and slowly held up his license. "Go on," he insisted, handing it to her. "Take a look. I'm not getting far if I'm aiming to hurt you. Not with practically giving you my entire identity. My name is Nick."
Maybe she was wrong. It was a lot for a stranger to offer if they were intending on hurting her. Still, her gut clenched, a definite warning ringing through her. Was it the baby? Did the baby know something she didn't? "I'm okay," she insisted, backing away. Though she didn't trust it, she was prepared to teleport. Her fingers burned hot as he power raced through her, a fire lit within.
Nick held back his annoyance. He instantly recognized Rachel on his trip to Donatello Redfield's house, curious as to why she was alone, wandering around in the dark. Only, she didn't seem to remember him, and she seemed … different. It was enough incentive for him to investigate. Besides, if she was alone, taking her hostage would allow him leverage with the Winchesters. "Miss, if you'd just—"
"No!" Rachel shouted, panting as she backed away a little, her hands hot with power ready to explode from her fingertips. "Tell me who you are," she demanded, her voice like ice. She couldn't afford to hurt anyone else, even if they intended to hurt her. She had to keep her head.
"Like I said, I'm Nick. Guess you don't remember me. Not sure why."
"Why would I remember you?" she asked.
"Sam Winchester and I are buddies." Nick raised a brow and waited for a reaction, but didn't receive one. "No? He never talked about me?" Nick pursed his lips. "Huh. Well, that's just rude."
"How do you know Sam?"
"I mean, who doesn't know Sam?" Nick studied her. "I recall you and him were a thing. Is that still a thing, or …?"
Rachel swallowed. Something still felt more than off. "I have to go."
"Whoa whoa whoa," Nick said with a laugh. "Come on. I know Sam, so we're good, right?"
"No, we aren't," Rachel replied stiffly.
"Well, that sucks. Thought we could do this the easy way." Nick sighed. "See, I'm currently trying to figure out how to get my mojo back as the one and only Lucifer. And I think you can help me."
Rachel's mouth gaped, her hands shaking at her sides. She had heard Sam speak about Lucifer before very briefly to other hunters, but never mentioned a different name for the vessel. She pressed her palm flat toward him, nostrils flared. "Don't come near me," she warned.
"I mean," Nick continued, unfazed, "you really can't, but you'll make great leverage with the brothers, who can. And nice company."
Terrified, her control was nearly completely gone. She was grateful the twist of her wrist only caused the car to go sliding down the road several hundred feet rather than into a tree. She watched as it skidded to a halt, panting in mounting fear. Did Sam know about this person named Nick, who claimed to also be Lucifer? It sounded insane. It was insane. Yet, there wasn't much about the last several weeks of her life that made any real sense at all.
Hating she had to use her unreliable power, Rachel teleported, leaving Nick grinning. "Well I'll be damned," he said with scoff. "Sam's girlfriend has grace." He paused, wetting his lips as he stared at the blank space she occupied moments before. "Sam's girlfriend has grace," he repeated, a slow smile of realization spreading across his mouth. Sam had a son by her, which meant that she was part human. She had to be a nephilim, and nephilim grace was just what he needed. He looked around, his gaze resting on a sign for the university ten miles away. She had to be going there. Why, he didn't know, but there wasn't anything else around. "Time for a little detour before Donatello."
Sam's fingers tightened around his hair as he cradled his head. He remained motionless, as he had been for the last hour in the library. Alone, hunched over in chaotic thought. He couldn't seem to focus on one particular thread—instead, he was knocked between challenges and heartaches like a pinball, ricocheting off of the harsh realistic possibilities that tormented him. No matter how he spun it, or how he tried to spin it, there was loss. Loss of love, loss of control, loss of family. Either Rachel died, the baby died, they both died, and or she "went dark." It could be multiple, or it could be less. Still, even one pain was one too many than Sam could bear in that moment.
Where would she go? Did she even know where she went? Rachel as her new angel self never teleported. Was she stuck in a desert somewhere? Was she even on earth still? Or was she fully capable of controlling her destination? If so, where would she go? She had little left. No, nothing. In a matter of weeks, everything in her life she remembered was stripped from her. Well, except for probably the most traumatic one—the loss of her cousin. Thank God.
Sam paused, his body slowly rising as his hands lowered from his head. Her cousin. Dean killed her. He had to, and his Rachel knew that. But this one doesn't know Hailey is dead. Her cousin Hailey was all this reborn version of Rachel thought she had left.
Bolting from his seat, he dashed to the maps room, attacking the key panel.
Dean spotted the flash of his brother's movement as he came out of the kitchen. "Whoa whoa whoa," he said as he rushed to Sam, barely catching Sam's jacket that Sam hastily threw on as he headed for the garage. Dean's grip on both his brother and his third cup of coffee was tight. He examined Sam's eyes. His brother found something. "What is it?" he asked, knowing how it sounded more like a demand.
Sam shook his head. "You need to—"
"I already told you," Dean spat back, eyeing him, "I'm coming with you."
"Robbie—"
"—is fine," Dean finished. He saw how Sam set his jaw, recognizing his brother's defeat. "Now," he continued stiffly, but a bit softer, "you need to tell me where we are going."
Sam wet his lips, exhaling deeply. "Lincoln," he replied, watching the connection happen as Dean silently processed the reasoning.
Dean let Sam go, lips parted as the awful memory flooded back through his mind. He could practically hear Rachel's desperate screams and sobs behind him as he aimed his weapon at the near corpse of an innocent girl. He could taste the sick that crept up his throat as he cocked the gun, a quiver running up his forearm as Rachel pleaded for him to stop. He could feel the ache of Rachel's soul when he fired the round, giving Hailey final peace before the sonofabitch Arioch could finish draining her. He saw Sam's shuddered tears as he pressed Rachel violently to his chest, desperate to keep her safe, to protect her at any cost. That's when it started —both their relationship and his obsession over her safety. Now, instead of safe, Rachel was practically a loose nuke. Upset, scared … only, she had charged angelic grace. And not just her grace, but the grace of hers and Sam's unborn child—the same child that would naturally be more powerful than their archangel heir mother.
Abandoning the coffee and snagging his jacket, Dean swiped up the Impala keys, his natural Fight Mode more than triggered. "Let's go."
Rachel released a shaky breath as she looked at the campus in front of her. It was darkened, but there were still plenty of signs of life with lit buildings dotting the skyline. With a hard swallow, she proceeded toward a familiar building on the outer edge of the main roadway. Laughter and chatter grew louder as she approached, the scent of thick smoke from a firepit wafting through the cool air. Though it was the middle of the night, the students didn't seem to care.
The sorority building came into more detailed view as she got closer, eventually close enough to stop the lively gathering with curious glances. "Hey," one young woman said, wetting her lips as the young man next to her quickly removed his hand from her thigh with guilt.
"Hi," Rachel managed, feeling like she was dangling by a frayed thread. "I, uh … Hailey was a member here, right?"
The young woman's brow arched. "Hailey?"
Rachel was confused by the young woman's unchanged hard stare. "Yeah. Hailey Jodiak."
Every bit of noise quieted; all eyes focused on Rachel, some people giving quick confused glances to each other. "You kidding me?" another young woman muttered, shaking her head.
"Unbelievable," another agreed.
"Seriously?" the young woman in front of Rachel scoffed. Her eyes narrowed. "Are you from Phi Sigma?" she demanded.
"What?" Rachel asked, confused.
"I swear," the young woman continued, clearly upset, "Phi Sigma is nothing but trash."
"I just …" Rachel exhaled, tears threatening her eyes. She was grateful the darkness could conceal most of it. "I just want to talk to Hailey. Please. Is she … Is she up?" Again she was met with glares and shaking heads. It mad both irritated and scared. "Hailey Jodiak," Rachel clarified, her pulse climbing as she caught the various reactions of the group. "Is she up? I know … I know she was in this sorority. If she's sleeping, I—"
The entire mood shifted, and it caught Rachel off guard. Hushed whispers were exchanged before another young woman stood up with a glare. "Who are you?" she asked roughly, approaching, mouth tight. "Is this a sick joke?"
Rachel shook her head, her brows drawn. "N-No."
"You getting off on this or something?"
"I … I just want to see her."
The young woman was clearly a senior member of the group from how the others seemed to watch in silence. She shook her head. "Look, I don't give a shit about numbers for Greek Week right now. Phi Sig's got a lot of nerve with this shit."
"What are you talking about?" Rachel asked, bewildered.
"You wanna fuck around? Keep up the rivalry show?" the young woman continued, eyes narrowed as she invaded Rachel's space; Rachel took a step back for each the woman took toward her. "Fine. But don't you dare bring Hailey into this. Ever."
Rachel gaped. "I honestly don't know what you're talking about."
"Unbelievable," the woman scoffed. "Listen, bitch—you can—"
"Stop it!" Rachel shouted, halting the young woman from continuing. "My name is Rachel Lentz. Hailey is my cousin. I just want to see her. Please." Tears of frustration slipped down Rachel's face.
The woman looked her over. Slowly, the coldness she wore melted away, replaced by stunned shock. "You …" The woman shook her head. "You have to be kidding, right?"
Ice immediately lined Rachel's stomach. "What do you mean?"
Glancing over her shoulder at the others, the young woman continued. "Look," she said softly, empathy in her eyes, "I know … I know losing someone is hard … but pretending like they're not gone is … isn't how … how you cope."
The ice immediately coursed through Rachel's entire body, her head feeling light as she digested the words. "What … What do you …" She jumped as the young woman took her hand. "What do you mean, 'gone?'"
Sighing, the woman gave Rachel's hand a gentle squeeze. "Honey, she's … she's dead. She's been dead for almost a year."
White light pierced at Rachel's temples, the pressure nearly knocking the wind out of her. She pulled away from the young woman as she stumbled backward, gasping at the sudden onslaught of energy that exploded into her mind. Vaguely she heard the woman frantically asking her if she was alright, but she couldn't seem to respond.
The world around her shifted, though the sky was just as dark. She blinked, shivering as she focused on her surroundings. She was back in the insanely creepy dank barn she found herself in only about an hour or so ago. "What the fuck?!" she demanded, her heart racing.
Motion caught her eye; she jerked her head toward it, her mouth gaping at what she saw—herself, gun and flashlight in hand, running toward the poles across from her in the distance. A memory. It has to be. Only, this one was far more than vivid, a frigid chill overcoming her as she watched it play out.
Rachel aimed her light, gagging as she saw the condition of the first two bodies. Racing to the third, she gasped, falling to her knees and dropping her gun and light, lifting Hailey's drooped head. "Hailey," she shuddered. Her eyes were closed, her skin both pale and purple. Rachel checked her pulse, feeling a faint beat just as Sam gripped her arm and moved her away from the body.
"Dammit, Rachel!" Dean growled. He was furious. "What the hell were you thinking? You could've gotten yourself killed!" He was glaring down at her like a big brother would a younger sister, his concern more than evident.
"She's alive," Rachel breathed, fighting against Sam's hold. "Let me go! She's alive!"
Rachel watched as Dean checked the other two bodies for a pulse, somber as he stood and walked with Castiel to Hailey. He looked to Castiel, who laid his hand on Hailey, his eyes closing as he focused on attempting to heal her. After a few long moments, Castiel lifted his hand, looking to Dean with a small shake of the head. "But she's alive," Rachel argued, fighting Sam's powerful arms. "She's alive! She'll be fine!"
"He's fed on her soul, Rachel," Castiel said solemnly. "She is too far gone."
She heard him, but she refused to accept it. "She's breathing! We need to call an ambulance!"
"Rachel," Castiel said gently, approaching her as she struggled against Sam, "she cannot recover from this. She is almost a shell, like the others. There is very little of her soul left."
Rachel stopped fighting, Castiel's words sinking in. "No," she argued. "She's … She's still …" She shuddered, Sam drawing her small body into his arms as she tried to escape.
"The best thing we can do for her is to give her peace, so Arioch can no longer harm her," Castiel said, distressed as he saw Rachel's eyes widen in realization. She knew what he meant. They were going to kill her.
"No!" she screamed. "You can't!" She thrashed against Sam, who took her punches as she tried to escape him.
"Rachel," Dean said, swallowing as he approached her. "I know … I know how this sounds. But all we want is to give her peace."
"By killing her?!" Rachel nearly screamed. "She's alive!"
"Sweetheart," Sam whispered above her, keeping her to himself, "she will never recover. She may be alive, but she's hanging by a thread."
Rachel covered her mouth, gagging against the reality. Tears slipped down her cheeks, her stomach sick as she looked from Dean to Castiel, who both looked back at her with pained expressions. She couldn't let Arioch take the last of Hailey, but what they were proposing went against everything inside of her. "I can't," she shuddered, clinging to Sam's arm as he held her.
Dean nodded, approaching her. "I know," he whispered. "You won't. … I will."
"Please, Dean," she begged. "Please don't do this."
"You don't want her to suffer," he argued gently, his own brow drawn tight as he wrestled his own emotions down.
Her face soaked with tears, she trembled, looking into Dean's eyes. "Dean," she shuddered, "she's all I have."
Dean's jaw flexed as he swallowed. "I know, sweetheart," he whispered. He reached out and gently stroked her cheek, his own breath shaky as he wiped her tears away. "But you can't let him win. We need to give her peace."
Rachel's heart stopped. She saw the rawness in Dean's eyes, the disgusting truth he barely wanted to admit-he was willing to do the unthinkable for not only Hailey's sake, but hers, so she wouldn't have to have that on her conscience. She gave Dean the smallest of nods, and Sam let her go, aching as he watched her stoop down to Hailey's body, embracing her. He shut his eyes as he heard her cry, his own tears threatening to escape.
"Sammy," Dean whispered, his voice raw, "we've got to go. If we're burning the body, we need to move."
Sam ran his hand over his face, hating himself as he approached Rachel. "Sam," she begged him, "please. Please don't." His heart twisted, and he gently took her arm, pulling her to stand as she fought him. "No!" she screamed. He held her, letting her pound against his arms and chest as he took her away from Hailey. Deep down, he knew Rachel had resolved herself to what Dean would do, but she also couldn't help her instinct to want to protect her.
Castiel took up Rachel's flashlight and gun, moving away near Sam as Dean moved toward Hailey. "No!" Rachel screamed. "Dean, no!"
"We need to, baby girl," Sam urged, pressing her close.
Rachel quivered against him, clinging to his shirt. She cried out as Dean raised his gun, his hesitation clear. Sam turned her inward to his chest, pressing her head against himself and shielding her eyes as she sobbed and struggled to look. "No, don't," Sam whispered, keeping her tight to himself. "You don't want to."
"Sam," Rachel whispered through her tears.
"I'm here," he reminded her, drawing her as tight as he could to himself to block her view, covering her ears as he watched Dean cock his gun. He braced against Rachel's fight to see what was happening, kissing the top of her head. "No, sweetheart," he whispered into her ear, denying her the view she thought she wanted. "Just focus on me. I'm right here. I'm not leaving. You're not alone." Sam kept Rachel's blood-curdling scream muffled into his chest as Dean pulled the trigger, firing a round. "Shhh," he shuddered, pressing kisses on her head. "It's over. She's free, baby girl."
"No," Rachel whispered as the scene played out, watching as Dean carefully handled Hailey's lifeless body, as Sam cradled her own doppelgänger to his chest and kept her close. She shook her head, her blood frozen in her veins. Hailey was dead. Dean killed her. And Sam knew all along.
Her stomach lurched, bile sputtering from her mouth as she hunched over and coughed up vomit. Dean killed Hailey. Something named Arioch had taken Hailey, and had fed on her soul. Dean ended her life. Sam let him.
Time slowed, her powers churning as the world spun around her. Her head light, Rachel stumbled backward away from the young woman on the college campus that had barely returned into view. "No!" she screamed, her voice gaining power with raw agony, overpowering the concerned students around her. "No!"
Rachel bolted, the cold air burning her tear-soaked cheeks as she fled. Her heart decimated, she ran until she couldn't breathe, stopping deep in a thick patch of woods to suck in oxygen in heavy pants. Hailey was dead. The reality assaulted her, repeating in her mind until she fell to her knees and sobbed, burying her face in her hands.
A long few moments later, she resurfaced. Her features hardened, her resolve thickening. Hailey was dead. She had nothing left to live for, no real hope of family despite the foreign child in her womb.
Rachel hesitated as a thought flickered through her head. Her choice of her fate had been made for her, whether anyone realized it or not. This life wasn't what she wanted. And there were only two ways out—either Sam would fix the mess he made, or she would do what he feared most.
