Chapter 1

I never opened myself this way
Life is ours, we live it our way
All these words I don't just say
And nothing else matters

~ Metallica

September 30, 2012. Scotts Mills, Willamette Valley, Oregon

Dean stretched out in the chair on the back porch, looking out over the valley as the westering sun painted the landscape with soft gold light. The trees were getting serious about changing their colours, the evening temperatures cold and frost sparkling across the grass in the mornings. The long pastures in the fields surrounding the big house had turned a deep yellow, long past haying time, and the fall colours contrasted sharply to the darkness of the pines that fringed the ridge. All in all, he decided, it wasn't a bad place to spend time. He liked the silence best, deep in the night, and the smell of the air.

The clocking of boot heels over the porch boards was a reminder that contemplation time, even here, was limited. He glanced up at his brother, taking the proffered beer with a murmur of thanks.

"So…what's next?" Sam sat down in the chair next to him. Dean shrugged.

"I could stand this for a while." He waved vaguely at the view of the valley.

"Yeah, who couldn't? But uh, Leviathans, Hell, war on earth… it's not going away."

"No," Dean agreed sourly. The world was as addicted to melodrama as a fourteen year old girl. Didn't matter how many times they had to save it, it wanted more. He tipped the bottle into his mouth and swallowed. "Frank found a lab. In Tennessee."

"That's good…? I guess?" Sam looked at him. "You don't sound very enthusiastic."

Dean shrugged. He wasn't. "Enthusiastic? No. But we had to get moving on it."

"Does it check out? No private investors?"

"Pure government." He smiled at the memory of the programmer's rant. "Which makes Frank more nervous, but it wasn't like there was a choice."

Sam nodded. "What about Roman's labs and research centres?"

"Ah, yeah. Ellie and Baraquiel have been working on it. They think we should get into a bit of domestic terrorism."

Sam leaned back. "It won't stop them. Not with Roman's bankroll."

"No, but it'll slow them down." Dean finished the beer and put the bottle on the floor beside him. "And we have to destroy that fertility bowl."

He heard the edge in his voice at the same as Sam turned to look at him and he cursed internally at the slip.

"What's the problem?" Sam's forehead wrinkled up in worry, then smoothed out. "Oh."

"She's seven and a half months, man." Dean rubbed a hand over his face. Ellie was healthy, fit, not even waddling yet, though she'd told him she would in time, but he couldn't shake the feeling she needed to be protected, preferably swaddled in cotton wool and locked into an impregnable vault of luxury. "She needs to be here, safe, staying put."

Sam nodded. "Do we know where they're keeping the bowl?"

"Wisconsin. The building that's half-finished." Dean scowled at the thought of it. The security around the place was tighter than Fort Knox according to Frank. It was exactly the sort of problem that Ellie couldn't seem to resist.

"We'll take care of that." Sam's tone held no doubts and Dean relaxed. "Won't take too many."

"Thanks. That'd be a big help."

"Sure."

They watched twilight bleed into the valley. In the house, the lights came on, spilling pools of gold across the porch until the curtains were drawn. Down the road, more lights twinkled through the thin woods. Ellie hadn't had any luck finding a new location, despite spending hours driving around and looking. It'd given Dean some time to tackle the other job he wanted to get over and done with, the one that made his palms sweat every time he thought about it.

"Uh …" He and Sam had been better, between themselves, here than they had been for a long, long time, able to talk to each other, able to listen to each other. It was still hard to open up, to be too vulnerable. He sighed and forced himself anyway. He needed help. "I talked to the, uh, padre down at the church out of town."

"What about?" Sam's surprise seemed genuine and Dean realised it'd been more than three months since the conversation about the ring.

"Uh, about getting … uh … married there."

His brother's wide grin flashed in the near darkness. "Okay, about time."

"Yeah." Dean shook his head, making a frustrated gesture at nothing. "I don't know what I'm supposed to do next."

The grin somehow got wider. "You don't want to leave it to Ellie?"

Dean belatedly realised how complicated the conversation was going to get. "She's…um…not that interested. She suggested the courthouse."

"Uh huh." Sam seemed to think that over. "And you want…something… more…romantic?"

And there it was, Dean thought. He sighed and told himself he should have expected it. Payback for a lifetime of scoffing at love and romance, caught in his own trap, blah blah blah. He did want something more romantic than the courthouse and two witnesses. They'd had the blood tests, they had the licence. He wanted…he didn't know exactly what he wanted…but he wanted it fiercely.

"Well, you know…" he said uncomfortably. "We don't have much time so nothing fancy, but yeah, if you're…uh…gonna be a bear, you should be…uh…a goddamned grizzly."

"Dude, you keep on surprising me."

"Shut up." He took a deep breath. "I figured you've done this before—"

"Under duress!" Sam interjected, his expression defensive.

"Yeah, well, I want you to…you know, stand up with me…and uh, give me a hand with whatever needs to be done next." Dean exhaled gustily, shaking his head. And he'd thought asking Sam's opinion on the ring had been bad. How much worse was all this going to get?

"Sure." Sam finished his beer. "How, um, far were you thinking of going?"

Dean spread his hands helplessly. "That's what I don't know! What are we talking about here?"

"Well, flowers, I guess, for the church. And the rings…and, uh, what do you call it? A…reception?"

"Yeah, okay, now I'm actually sweating." Dean wiped his palms down the legs of his jeans and looked at his brother. "What do we need to do and what can we ditch?"

"I'll talk to Tricia, okay? We'll get a list and sort it out," Sam promised. "When did you want this to happen?"

"I thought maybe the weekend?"

"This weekend?" Sam shook his head. "Doubtful. That's only three days. I'll have to get back to you. But I'm thinking it'll be more like weekend after."

"Whatever…"

"Do you have a suit? Does Ellie have a dress? Those are likely to take the longest?"

Suit. He had three fibbie suits. None were black. He had no idea of Ellie's wardrobe. For a moment, the memory of the cobweb fine grey dress she'd worn in New Orleans returned, but that one had been pretty much torn up by the time they'd gotten away from the nest and the city. "Uh, not really—"

The door to the house opened, the screen door banging and Adam walked out.

"Hey, how you feeling?" Sam asked.

"Like I've been sleeping for ten years," Adam said with a shrug. "But okay, I guess."

Dean flicked a glance at Sam. Adam had woken naturally the morning after they'd gotten here and Tricia had taken him to the hospital, had him checked out completely. Physically, as Cas had said, Adam was fine. Mentally and emotionally, they weren't sure. Their half brother hadn't mentioned anything and his behaviour seemed reasonably normal. Reasonably normal for someone who'd been killed by ghouls, buried, resurrected and ridden by an archangel, plunged into Hell with the devil and then dumped back in the world.

"No nightmares? Bad memories?" Dean asked. He wasn't sure how much he could believe of Adam's assertions of being fine. Lying in that department sort of ran in the family.

"No, still none." Adam turned to them, leaning back against the railing of the porch. "Michael must have kept me out of most of it."

His gaze rested on Sam for a moment, then returned to Dean, the swift shift in attention sending a chill down Dean's spine for no readily obvious reason. There'd been something in Adam's gaze, a moment of…he didn't know what, but he didn't like it.

"Good. Maybe not such a dick." Dean picked up his bottle and got to his feet. "You want a beer?"

Adam shook his head. "No, thanks."

"Sam, uh, could you follow up on that thing?" Dean stopped next to his brother's chair, one brow raised a fraction.

"Yeah. I'll do it now." Sam rose, taking his beer from the table and giving Adam a nod, and walked back into the house.

"Why am I here?" Adam asked.

"You got someplace you'd rather be?"

The question brought a stab of curiosity. Before Michael had followed Sam and Lucifer into the Cage, and before the archangel had grabbed Adam in a fit of pique at losing his true vessel, he and Sam had only known Adam and his mother when they'd been facsimiles created by the ghouls who'd killed and eaten them. He had no real idea of Adam's life, though the house in Minnesota had been full of mementoes and memories of the boy's life as John's other son.

Adam's brows drew together, the expression not very like, yet somehow reminiscent of John Winchester. It tugged at Dean.

"No," the younger man said. "No place."

"Then you could stick around here?" Dean suggested, keeping his tone mild. "Maybe take it easy for a while? See if you see anything you might like to do?"

He and Ellie had talked of Adam's options, when his half brother had still been unconscious. Ellie had offered to fund Adam to finish his medical degree, if that's what he wanted. Or anything Adam might want to do. Adam had been curt in his thanks but had refused.

"I don't want to just live off you like a parasite—"

"Hey, that's not—"

"Let me finish," Adam said. "I'd prefer to be useful, if I can. Learn what you do." He looked down and away at the last words, as if the idea was somehow shameful.

"What we do tends to make for a short life," Dean pointed out. It was an easy choice, that turn to revenge, but it never worked. He'd learned that lesson early. Sam still hadn't, he thought, though his little brother was better at burying those feelings now. Dean realised that one day he and Sam needed to talk about John, to pool their views of their father. He wondered if Adam needed to be a part of that conversation as well.

"I don't care," Adam said, and for a moment his face crumpled. "I can't explain this—not without it sounding—weird—or insane—" He tipped his head back and stared at the black sky. "Something came after us because of my father—your father. For the last three years, I've been yanked around by a creature from another dimension…you know about these things. I didn't. I want to learn."

It wasn't quite the speech the ghoul had given but it was close. The uneasiness at that recognition sent another internal shiver down Dean's spine. They'd tested Adam in every way they knew: physical, psychological, magical and through the angel's touch, and there was nothing unnatural or monstrous about him. Didn't mean he had to trust that, though.

"It won't bring anyone back and it won't help the bad dreams," he said.

"I know."

The two words held raw emotion and Dean turned away. "Alright. See Sam in the morning. He'll start you off with Twist."

"Thank you."

"Don't thank me," Dean said, his voice curt. "C'mon, let's see what's going on for dinner."

"In a minute…" Adam leaned on the porch railing. "I—I need—uh—I'll just be a minute—"

Nodding his understanding, Dean left him by the railing and opened the screen door. The night sky wouldn't tell Adam anything he didn't already know but it would give him a chance to stifle the emotions that had risen too quickly. He wondered if he needed to keep an eye on Adam's reactions, maybe get Ellie to watch the kid.

Stepping into the house, the rich and diverse smells from the kitchen wiped the thought from his mind as he breathed them in appreciatively. There was something to getting home-cooked meals every night; he wasn't sure if it was the short-term taste or the long-term nutrition but he was even eating vegetables now and the indigestion problems had disappeared.

He headed for the kitchen, shaking off the vague uneasiness leftover from the conversation with Adam. Kid had been an angel condom for the last two years, no one was coming out of that with everything functioning at full throttle.

Ellie stirred the sauce a little, a small crease between her brows as she considered what else it needed. She felt arms slide around her from behind, a solid chest against her back and she leaned into him.

"Hey."

"Hmm … what's for dinner?" Dean looked over her shoulder at the gently bubbling sauce on the stove.

"Pasta." She knew what he was thinking before he said it. The two pots, one filled with sauce, the other with boiling water and cooking spaghetti, were enormous. "And yes, it's a lot—Frank, Twist, Trent and Baraquiel are joining us for dinner. We've got to get moving on the plans for the Leviathans."

"Huh." His breath gusted against the skin of her neck. "I talked to Sam about it. He's going to take a team to Wisconsin."

"Is he?"

She felt his smile against her cheek as he answered. "Yeah, sorry, he begged me for the job, couldn't wait to get over there and blow things up."

She snorted softly. "Liar."

"Ah, c'mon, Ellie, don't tell me you can climb around rooftops with this. You can do this for me, stay home, strategise, organise, stay safe?" Dean slid his hands over her belly. "Whoa!"

He snatched his hands away as if he'd been stung, peering down over her shoulder at her abdomen. The movement he'd felt had been sudden and proprietary, a get-the-hell-off-my-turf kick.

"Your son doesn't agree with you."

He put his hand back cautiously, flinching as he felt another movement beneath his palm, but leaving it there.

"How long has he been doing that?"

"That strong? Just today. But he's been moving around for a while."

Dean closed his eyes, feeling the movements through his hands, a peculiar sensation building his chest. He wanted to talk to his father, the need so strong and sharp it felt as if he'd been stabbed. It wasn't the first time, that'd been when he'd found out she was pregnant. He had a horrible feeling it wouldn't be the last, either. He exhaled hard, forcing the feeling aside.

"You can check it out later." She turned in his arms. "It's kind of freaky to watch."

Opening his eyes, he tried to smile at the comment. He knew from her expression the effort didn't quite make it; he couldn't lighten this moment, this feeling that was crowding every thought out.

Ellie slid her arms around him, her smile softening. "Amazing, huh?"

"Yeah." He took a deep breath, struggling to find words for something that couldn't be described, at least not by him. Everything he thought of sounded trivial or trite. He kissed her instead, a deepening kiss, filled with passion, that he hoped expressed his feelings much more accurately.

"In the kitchen? Come on, you two, get a room." Tricia walked in, with Sam following her.

Dean lifted his head and glared at them as Ellie turned back to stir the sauce.

"The guys are here, when do you want to eat?" Tricia walked around the island counter, blithely ignoring Dean's glare and getting out serving dishes.

Ellie twirled a few strands of spaghetti from the pot, blowing on them then tasting. "Ready in five minutes."

"I'll get the strainer," Tricia said. Ellie nodded and picked up the oven mitt.

"There's salad in the 'fridge, and garlic bread in the oven," she said.

Dean stepped back, watching the two women move around the kitchen efficiently. He looked at Sam and shook his head. "Think we're redundant in here."

"Doesn't mean you don't have jobs," Ellie said as they turned to leave. "Could you grab the salad, set the dining table for nine and open two bottles of the red wine on the buffet?"

The dining room was still redolent with the smells of their meal, the plates cleared away and strong coffee replacing wine and beer. Dean leaned back, watching those sitting around the long table. The talk had turned, finally, to what they were going to do, and everyone there, with the exception of Adam, had an opinion.

"This isn't a battle," Ellie said, her tone sharp as she cut through the argument between Twist and Trent. "This is guerrilla warfare, and it'll work best if we're in small units."

"You mean, like cells, Cold War stuff?" Twist looked at Ellie curiously. She nodded.

"Two hunters, a Watcher, a nephilim. Each cell has a specific task. No cell knows what the others are doing."

Frank cleared his throat and looked around the table. "There are fourteen so-called research centres that Roman has set up so far. We don't know what they're doing, we don't know if they're involved with the virus or if they're working on the Biggerson's formula. Either way, the more we can slow them down, the better off we'll be."

"Cas said that Michael told him that the Princes are looking for a way to bring Lucifer back to his powers," Dean added, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the table as he got their attention. "And from what we heard in Hell, that seems to mean they're looking for a specific soul."

Tricia frowned. "How are we going to know how to find the soul?"

"We won't." Baraquiel shook his head. "There are too many possibilities."

"But it has to be a nephilim, right?" Sam looked at Dean and Ellie. "What you heard was that the child had to have an angel's powers?"

"No, not necessarily," Baraquiel corrected. "Any human descended from an angel, from the nephilim offspring lines, will serve as well. Penemue had been looking into the legends about Lucifer's rising for a long time, and he told me that it was the lines that were important to Lucifer—at least that's what he was obsessed with."

"But that still has to be pretty limited, right?" Sam glanced from Dean to Baraquiel.

"Unfortunately, it is not. There are many hunting families and many of the psychically gifted who are descended from angelic lines, Sam," Baraquiel said. "Those powers reside in your family, in Twist's…" He looked around the table. "…in Tricia's…that's how you survived, it's why you're successful at what you do."

"Not just hunting families or the gifted, either," Ellie added. "Statistically, it might be why some people are drawn to professions that help and heal, and to those that hunt for the human monsters in societies as well."

Dean and Sam exchanged a look. They'd known about their own heritage. It had been why they were chosen as vessels, and as the keys to breaking the first and last seals of Lucifer's Cage. Hearing that other families had those genes was a surprise. Thinking about it for a moment, Dean realised it shouldn't have. His skills, the ability to think like the creatures he hunted, for instance, weren't so different from what law enforcement did.

"So…how do we find out who's got the angel genes and who doesn't?" Dean looked at Frank.

"No idea. Ask your feathered friend, maybe?"

Another thing to talk to Cas about. He'd call him tomorrow.

Ellie rubbed her temple absently. "Alright, there's not much we can do about Lucifer or the archdemons until they make a move. Sam, do we have enough trained people to get cells together for the Leviathan research centres?"

Sam nodded assent. "We've got six teams training right now. We just need targets."

"You'll have them tomorrow," Frank promised.

Ellie turned to Frank. "The schematics aren't going to be difficult to get for that building in Wisconsin, are they?"

"No."

"What about surveillance? Can we tap into theirs and see what they're doing there?"

"I think so. It'll need some work done around there, but I've been working on a very sensitive signal interface, and I think most of it can be implemented remotely." He looked around the table. "I'll need a couple of volunteers to do the grunt work."

Trent nodded. "I'll go. Sariel and Oran can come with me."

Sam looked at Twist. "We'll sort out each team and do the break downs on the other centres." He glanced sideways at his brother. "Aim to be on the road early next week?"

Dean nodded. "We'll need more vehicles."

"Could do a run into Seattle, pick up some disposables," Trent suggested. "It would be good practice for our rookies at the same time?"

"Sounds like a plan."

"Anything else?" Ellie looked around the table, and got to her feet when there was no response. "See you all in the morning. Baraquiel, could I speak to you before you go?"

She walked out of the dining room. Baraquiel nodded to everyone and rose to follow her. Dean watched them leave, wondering if he should be following. Twist, Trent and Frank were also leaving and he got up, helping Tricia and Sam to clear the table.

"What about me?" Adam stood, looking from one to the other of his half brothers.

"Uh, yeah," Dean said, with a guilty glance at Sam. "I told Adam he could start with you tomorrow morning."

Sam gave a one-shoulder shrug in response. "No problem. Room for everyone. Adam, are you sure? You could go back to college, finish your medical degree?"

"That's no longer my life." Adam smiled thinly at them and left the room.

"What do you think?" Sam asked.

"I got nothing," Dean responded, his expression troubled. "We'll keep an eye on him."

"Yeah."

"This research of Pen's? Where is it?" Ellie sat on the edge of the armchair in the study. The day had been long and she was longing for bed and sleep, but the feeling she had, to get on with this, to get started on the information gathering, wouldn't leave her alone.

"I have some of it here, in this country. The rest we had to leave behind," Baraquiel said.

"In Palestine? Or Jordan?"

"Jordan." His expression sharpened as he considered her question. "You can't retrieve it now. The Others made sure that we could not go back."

"Don't worry. I can't fly anyway. I'd like to see what you brought." She could make a start on it, and maybe ask Castiel to retrieve more if it seemed that they might find the answers they needed in it.

"I'll bring all I have over here tomorrow." He inclined his head. "Will you need help with the translations?"

"I shouldn't," Ellie said. "If I do, I might borrow Adina."

"She would be honoured to help."

Ellie wondered about that. The young nephilim were enjoying the military style training of the hunters, competing with each other to be the fastest, most accurate, strongest in combat.

"Did Pen say if he found out how Lucifer could be ensouled?" She missed the Watcher, and wished she'd had the time to ask him about this herself. The study of history, of languages ancient, modern or dead, had hammered home the recognition that information could turn one way or the other on a misunderstood word, or an incautious phrase. "Or any of the details that might help us?"

Baraquiel shook his head. "Castiel might know more about it. Pen said that the ritual had been lost for over two thousand years. We didn't believe anyone still living knew it, with the possible exception of the Tainted Ones."

He glanced around as Dean came into the room, then returned his gaze to Ellie. "I'll organise to have the books and documents brought over tomorrow. Perhaps with what you've already discovered, something will fall into place."

"Thank you. It might be reaching for straws, but there's little else I can do at this point."

"You underestimate your input." Baraquiel said, nodding to Dean before leaving the room.

Dean walked over to Ellie, crouching in front of her.

"What was that about?"

"Pen's research on Lucifer." She sighed. "Most of it is still in Jordan, apparently, but I want to see what he found out. Maybe we can get ahead of them, just for once."

Dean stood, holding his hand to her. "Yeah, I wouldn't hold your breath for that."

She nodded, taking it and letting him pull her up. "No, wasn't thinking of going that far."

"Another thing to ask Cas about?"

"No, not yet, though it's getting to be quite a list," she said. "When do you want to call him?"

"Tomorrow." He put his arm around her waist as they walked out of the room. "You look tired. Ready for bed?"

"Not yet," she said. "Dishes to do."

"I can do that—"

"It's okay. It's just rinsing and stacking the dishwasher. I could use the time to process, and you and Sam need to figure out who does what tomorrow?" She smiled as his expression changed, and he left with the air of someone who had forgotten something vital.

Ellie rinsed the plates and stacked them in the dishwasher, and set the program, glancing up as she became aware of Tricia hovering beside her.

"What's up?"

Tricia looked at the doorway. "I thought you'd better have a head's up. Sam says that Dean wants to have a wedding."

Ellie straightened up, leaning against the counter and raising an eyebrow. She'd been waiting for this conversation since the previous week. It wouldn't have bothered her at all to skip the pomp and ceremony and get a certificate from the courthouse. She was still a little amazed that Dean wanted something more traditional. "Mmm … he mentioned something about it."

"Well, he's talked to the priest of that little church down near town, and Sam asked me to help organise it. So I thought I'd better ask you if there was anything you wanted."

Ellie smiled. "Is it going to be a surprise wedding?"

"God, I hope not because I've just spoiled the surprise, haven't I?" Tricia snorted. "So, what do you want?"

"Trish, to be honest I'm just not into this sort of thing." She looked around the kitchen for anything else to go in the cycle, then closed the door and started the machine. "I mean, look at me, I won't be able to find anything to wear anyway."

"You're carrying high and you look wonderful, so don't pull that crap on him. Stop being a spoilsport. He wants to do the romantic thing, at least give me something – flowers? Dress? Reception?"

"Alright, if I have to do this, then let's be practical about it." Ellie heaved a sigh. "Will you be the maid of honour?"

"Love to."

"Good. Do we really need flowers or that stuff? I thought I could just wear something comfortable?"

"No way. I'll find the dress, leave that to me." She looked critically down Ellie's body, nodding to herself. "Flowers … they make a church look nicer. Maybe simple ones – roses, peonies… what colours do you like?"

"Purple and blue and white."

"Don't think that will be a problem," Trish said, writing it down. "What about the reception?"

"Reception … really? For just us?"

"Well, how about … the back room of the Acorn, in town. A simple, catered dinner, some music? Even with 'just us' we're talking twenty, thirty people, too many for this place and if we cater it here, with the flowers and everything it really will be a big deal?"

"All right, I suppose. That sounds about bearable," Ellie relented. "But, please…no speeches, no fuss, no fancy cake, something that everyone can eat?"

"Yep, I can do that." Tricia grinned at her. "You know, this is the first time I've ever seen the bride more disinterested than the groom."

Ellie grimaced. "Stop using those words. It's not a show. It's just me and Dean."

"Got it. No more soppy wedding words. I'll send out a memo, let everyone know."

"See, now you're making me sweat." Ellie looked down at her palms irritably. "Simple. No fuss. That's my criteria."

"Okay." Tricia lifted her notebook and waved it. "Just one more thing…what's your song?"

"My song?"

"You know, for the bri—I mean the slow dance. Don't you guys have a song?"

Ellie rolled her eyes. "Highway to Hell? Bad Company? Ramble On?"

"Not a chance. A slow song. Romantic."

There were a lot of songs she thought might be suitable but Dean was driving this time. She shook her head. "Driver picks. Ask Dean about it."

"He better be more help than you are," Tricia muttered as she left the kitchen. "I'll pick something myself if I don't get an answer."

Ellie smothered a laugh. She picked up the damp cloth by the sink and wiped down the benches, taking her time. Dean's sudden decision to have the wedding as soon as possible had come as a surprise. She didn't think he was at all influenced by traditions or what others thought. She was tempted to nail him about the wedding plans, but decided against it. It wasn't that often that either of them got to be a bit romantic, she shouldn't blow it off just because it seemed like a lot of effort.

Admit it, you like that he wants it to be a bit special. It wasn't like him, yet, she thought it was, in some ways. She would lay money on him wanting to do a tree and lights and eggnog when Christmas rolled around, especially with their son. Something else she probably should put some prep time into. If the Levis and Hell would leave them alone long enough to set up a good base, that is.

Sam and Adam were still up, talking quietly in the living room. She turned off the kitchen lights and headed for the stairs. Adam was another problem. She wasn't sure she shared Dean's suspicions about the young man. He'd had a rough ride and she thought it was normal to take time to integrate the experiences. Perhaps he'd find his place with his half brothers here now.

11:15 pm

The bedroom was lit by two lamps, the soft gold light falling over the bed and leaving the corners of the room shadowed. In the ensuite bath, Dean heard the taps shut off, then the light went off and the door and Ellie walked out.

He'd never imagined a pregnant woman could be sexy, but she was…her skin glowed cream and gold, her hair gleamed like polished copper as it fell around her shoulders and over her full breasts, the smooth curve of the baby bulge making her seem like one of those ancient fertility goddesses from which all life came. He moved back as she came to the bed and lay down next to him. It didn't escape him that it required a real relationship to see a person from so many angles, in so many situations. He lifted a hand and rested it on her hip as she rolled toward him.

The baby kicked and he looked down at the movement under her skin. It did look freaky. It looked uncomfortably like the scene in Alien. Her gaze had followed his when he moved his hand to rest his fingertips against her skin, and the foot pushed out again.

Ellie looked at his expression and laughed softly. "Told you."

"It's not … yeah, okay, it's a little bit freaky." It didn't matter, he found. His son, her son, their son was growing in there, waiting to be born, to be known. "What does that feel like from the inside?"

"Uh … like it looks, I guess. It doesn't hurt, if that's what you mean."

"Any, uh, discomfort yet?"

Her snort was the essence of exasperation. "Stop reading those sites, okay? No. No indigestion, no discomfort, no back pain…it's all fine."

He looked at her, the corner of his mouth tucked in. "Come on, you're doing all the hard work, I just want to be able to help if I can."

"Wait until labour."

He winced with the involuntary image that invaded his mind. "That was a low blow."

"Yeah." She slipped her arm around his neck. "How bout we put the little guy to sleep now?"

"You mean…rock the boat?"

"That's what I mean."

He shifted onto his elbow, looking down at her, his smile widening. "You still want me."

"So much so that I'll start without you if you don't get moving."