Chapter 17
I-35 S
Half lying on the back seat beside him, Ellie panted lightly. Sweat soaked her hair and beaded her skin, the contractions coming more or less every two minutes and lasting more or less thirty seconds. Dean had been timing them as well as he could.
"How much longer, Sam?"
He looked for his brother's eyes in the rearview mirror as Ellie's fingers tightened around his hand. He'd known she was strong; he'd never been on the receiving end before. Another contraction gripped her, her face paling while her cheeks flamed. Watching her effort to draw breath through it made Dean's chest ache in sympathy.
"About half an hour, I think." Sam said, hunched over the wheel, his gaze returning to the road.
Castiel turned around, peering into the back seat. "I thought you said that labour takes hours for a first-time mother?"
"Not for everyone." Dean snapped when Ellie's grip tightened again. "Sam, these are coming really fast, we might need to find somewhere to stop."
"I can't—"
Ellie's deep groan came through clenched teeth. "Stop the car, Sam. We're out of time, he's coming right now."
"There!" Dean pointed to the breakdown lane a few hundred yards ahead.
Sam slowed and edged out of the traffic. Behind him, Tricia followed, bringing the Camaro to a halt half a length behind them and getting out. She ran to the back door of the Impala and threw it open; her experienced gaze sizing up the situation instantly to Dean's relief.
"Dean, turn her around, she needs to lean back against you, about a forty-five degree angle." She ran to the other side of the car to help turn Ellie so she lay along the seat, her back resting against Dean's chest. "Sam, in my pack there are clean towels, and my first aid kit. Get them now."
Turning to Castiel, she said, "If you can do anything about the pain, now would be the time to do it."
The angel looked from Tricia to Dean uncertainly, then swivelled around, leaning over the back of the seat to reach out and take Ellie's hand. Dean caught the angel's involuntary flinch as the deep, powerful contractions that were forcing the baby into the birth canal were transmitted through the connection of touch.
"Suck it up," Dean said and Cas nodded, keeping hold of Ellie's hand, his eyes screwed shut.
Sam brought the towels and Tricia spread one over the seat, and under Ellie, shaking her head when he tried to pass her the others. "Those are to wipe the baby clean, and to wrap it. Keep them clean, please."
She pushed the Watcher's cloak clear of Ellie. "When did the water break?"
"About as soon as we got into the car," Dean said, pushing aside the fleeting thought about the car's upholstery.
"We're going to breathe through each contraction, while I take a look, okay?" Tricia said, kneeling awkwardly on the rim of the door frame, half inside the rear of the car. "That's great, you're doing great. Nice, shallow pants now, that's it…"
Dean couldn't see what she was looking at, his view foreshortened down Ellie's body. Her short, hard pants shook against him, and he struggled to breathe deeply himself, too aware that panting like that could put him out in minutes.
Tricia looked up and smiled. "You're ready. Ellie, nicely dilated. He's coming. Shallow breaths now; pant until I tell you. You need to be ready to push—and push hard—with the next contraction."
Against Dean's chest, Ellie nodded. The contractions rippled under the taut skin of her stomach, almost continuously now, and Dean braced himself for the next crushing grip on his fingers. Castiel grimaced as he felt it too, trying to take the worst of the sensations into himself.
"He's crowning, Ellie. You can do this; push, push hard—now."
Ellie's indrawn breath was ragged and deep, a stentorian groan that sent shivers down Dean's spine and had him wrapping his arm more closely around her shoulders. "What's going on?!"
"Baby's head is coming through and he's turning a little for the shoulders," Tricia said, one hand supporting the child's head. "Come on, Ellie."
From the front seat, a garbled cry came from the angel as the baby's head came through, and Cas shook his head, gasping for breath. Dean spared him a savage grin. Wimpy angel.
"Shoulders coming out; push, Ellie, come on, we're nearly there."
Against his chest and along his arms, Dean felt the thrum of Ellie's muscles, all contracting and tightening. He couldn't imagine the effort of will and focus it took to push aside pain that could make an angel cry out.
"There!" Tricia held her hand out to Sam for a second towel, and opened it as the shoulders angled and slipped free and the rest of the infant followed. Tricia wrapped the towel around his body, leaving the umbilical cord free.
"You have a baby boy," she said, grinning at Dean. "Clamps and scissors, Sam?"
"What?" From the front seat, Sam's gaze flicked from Tricia to Dean.
"We'll need to cut the cord soon," Tricia said. "Open the first aid kit, you'll find the sterilised and packaged equipment in the second tray."
Over the top of the seat, Dean saw his brother's panicked expression dissolve into relief as Sam scrabbled in the kit. A moment later, Sam held up the packaged clamps and scissors.
"Give them to Dean," Tricia instructed, her head bowed over the infant in her arms, gently wiping the blood and liquid from his face and head and cleaning his body. "When the cord stops pulsing, you're going to put one clamp about three inches from the baby, put the other about two inches from that and cut between them."
There was no response, and she lifted her head. "All right?"
Looking down at the thick, bluish-purple cord that ran from his son back into Ellie, Dean made himself nod, as if he did this every day, no big deal, nothing to worry about. He wasn't sure if he was pulling the nonchalance off but no one argued.
It was a little more than a minute before Tricia nodded. "Clamps now."
Dean opened the first pack and drew out the instrument, manoeuvring the flat edges over the thick cord. He closed it, trying to ignore the faint spurt of relief when the tool locked itself shut, then opened the other pack and positioned the second clamp, squeezing it until it locked as well.
"Sam, scissors," Tricia said. "Dean, it's tough. You'll need to cut cleanly. Ellie and the baby won't feel it at all."
Dean reached for the third pack his brother held and ripped it open, handling the scissors with care. He cut nervously at the cord between the two clamps, having to apply more pressure as he felt how tough the sinew was. He was surprised by how little blood emerged.
"We just have to wait a little while for the placenta to come out. It shouldn't take long; the blood supply stops once it's detached," Tricia said.
The two men and the angel found something else to look at immediately.
"Sam, you could pass me another clean towel, please? This will have to be the swaddling until we can get to a hospital." Tricia's voice was low and calm. "Cas? You all right?"
Ellie snorted, eyes half-closed as she rolled her head to one side to look over the seat at the angel. His expression, an odd combination of repressed pain and astonishment, made her smile.
"You can let go now, Cas," she said, wriggling her fingers. "And thank you."
He released her hand, and she felt the deep ache of the stretched skin in her own nerves. No wonder he'd looked anguished, she thought, repressing laughter. Not something his vessel would have ever felt either.
"How does humanity continue when birth feels like that?" Castiel looked at Ellie.
"It's not a memory we retain," she said. That was true. Despite the soreness she felt, the sensations of being out of control, of being enmeshed in pain, were already dissipating. She felt tired but deeply contented, watching Tricia wrap her baby in the thick, clean towel. A boy, as she'd known. They hadn't had the time for the regular pregnancy checks, and had missed out on finding out the sex in the scrambling sorties of the past six months, but she'd known anyway. John Robert. Or Robert John. That was yet to be decided.
"Are you ready to hold him?" Tricia asked, sliding onto the rear seat and holding out the infant.
"Yes!" Ellie held out her arms, pushing aside the fatigue. Slightly misshapen from his journey through the tight birth canal, John's head and face were red and he was squinting defensively against the brightness coming through the windows. A tuft of dark hair, tipped with gold, stood out like a halo on his head.
Behind her, she felt Dean's tension disappear, his body soften. His cheek brushed her temple as he leaned forward. There was no need for words.
"Do we still go to the hospital?" Sam asked from the front.
"Yes," Tricia answered. She backed out of the car. "Ellie needs a checkup and the baby needs the postnatal tests and everyone could use a day or two to clean up and rest."
"No argument," Dean said, his gaze remaining fixed on his son.
Stillwater Medical, Blackwell, Oklahoma
Ellie sat up in the bed, making a conscious effort to breathe smoothly and regularly. The doctor listened to her heart for a moment, then nodded, straightening and removing the stethoscope from her skin and his ears.
"Everything seems fine," Dr Prescott said, his glance flicking to Dean. "You're both in good health. Not surprising, you're young, and, uh, remarkably fit."
Ellie shifted her gaze to Dean, feigning a look of wide-eyed innocence. He returned the look, and they offered their matched expressions to Prescott together.
The doctor made a noise in the back of his throat in acknowledgement. "Alright, don't need to tell me when to mind my own business," he said, writing his notes on Ellie's chart, then sliding it back into the slot at the end of the bed. "Mr Winchester, those stitches will need to come out in a week."
"Sure, doc."
Prescott turned to the metal crib. "You have a beautiful, healthy baby, no problems at all. But next time, try to leave a bit earlier for the hospital?" He looked around as the door opened. "Ah, Nurse Foy will handle your admittance—nothing to worry about, just an overnight stay to be on the safe side."
Ellie wondered at the doctor's forbearance. She was covered in bruises, scrapes and the remains of Cas' blood as well as her own. Dean had multiple cuts and bruising from fighting his way through demons. Tricia must have been spinning gold in coming up with a believable cover story. She made a mental note to get something special for her before they got home.
Nurse Foy had a clipboard all ready and a bright smile. "Not really admittance, your—military—" Her voice dropped to a whisper with the word and she glanced at the door. "—doctor gave us all the details for that."
There was a small indeterminate noise from Dean and Ellie kept her gaze on the nurse, forcing her expression to remain interested and neutral.
"This will be the registered hospital for your son's birth—" Nurse Foy continued, giving them both a conspiratorial smile. "—can't really put the interstate down, although it does happen more frequently than you think."
Not surprising, Ellie decided. She'd been in a state of mind where time had little meaning but in some part of her consciousness, she'd been aware that they were not going to make a town before the baby came.
"Let's get started, shall we?" The nurse checked a couple of boxes on her form, then asked, "We'll just go through what we've got…last name?"
"Winchester," Ellie answered as Dean leaned on the bed. He was pretty close to being out on his feet. Days of driving, fighting and the enormous emotional toll might drop him at the nurse's feet.
"First and given names? For both of you, if you don't mind?"
"Eleanor Katherine," Ellie said. She glanced at Dean, unsurprised to see his eyes almost closed. "And Dean. No middle name."
"Married?"
"Yes."
"Maiden name?"
"Morgan."
"Address?"
"Uh, 1349 Forest Road, Cascadia, Oregon." Dean said, straightening, his voice a little too loud.
"You are a long way from home!" Surprise filled Nurse Foy's voice.
"Yeah."
"And the baby's name?"
And here it was, Ellie thought. She turned to Dean, one eyebrow raised. The corner of his mouth lifted in a one-sided smile as he returned her gaze.
"John Robert," he said. Ellie smiled back at him, her heart lifting.
"That's lovely." Nurse Foy noted it down on the form. "And your, uh, health insurance?"
Dean pulled the card from his wallet and handed it to her, waiting as she noted the numbers then handed it back.
"Thank you," she said, tucking the pen into the clip and looking from Dean back to Ellie. "That's all I need. You two must be ready for some rest."
"Not going to argue," Ellie agreed, wriggling back to a supine position. She could sleep for days. A sideways glance at Dean made her wonder if she'd get the chance, just yet.
Nurse Foy left the room and Dean waited until the door had closed before shifting from the side of the bed to the chair beside it. Crossing his arms and leaning his chin on them, he looked into Ellie's eyes at her level.
"I was thinking…"
"Mmmm-hmmm?"
"Do we have to go back to Oregon?"
"I thought you liked Oregon?"
"I do." He hesitated for a moment. "But if we go back there, we'll be working straight away, and we haven't had a break for a long time."
"You mean…like a honeymoon?" she said, her tone gently mocking.
He snorted. "Dammit, take me seriously, woman."
"I am." She smiled at him. "All right. You want to maybe…retire…for a bit?"
"Yeah, for a bit."
"Where do you want to go?"
They'd discussed a more permanent place from time to time, both unable to imagine travelling with a newborn baby, but had never gotten as far as an actual location.
"Which state has the least amount of monsters, ghosts and angel/demon activity?"
"I don't know." She thought for a moment. "Well, obviously not Minnesota."
"Hell, no. Or Wisconsin." He looked at her. "I don't think South Dakota or Wyoming qualify either."
"Uh-uh, both have gates. What about Maine?"
"No, had some pretty nasty experiences in Maine." He shook his head. "Louisiana?"
"Lot of ghosts in Louisiana." She remembered a few hard hunts there.
"Yeah. And vampires."
"True." The Garden District seemed to be a favourite haunt of older vampires and they'd both run into them there.
"Uh…the Carolinas?" Dean struggled to remember any state he'd never been hunting in.
"North or South?"
"Either?"
"North." She looked into the bassinet beside the bed, their son sleeping soundly. "It'll be nice to smell the sea again."
"Okay then?"
"Yes. We could drive over in a couple of days, and see the real estate agents."
"You think I can fit in there with you?"
"Take your boots off."
He grinned at her. "You sure?"
"Yes, heaps of room for two here."
Dean pulled off his boots and walked around the bed. He climbed in behind her and settled himself against her back.
"How's that?"
"Better." He let out his breath against her hair, his eyes closing involuntarily. He slid one arm under the pillow, the other curved over her waist. It was hard to concentrate. He wanted to say something about what she'd been through, how much it had meant to him, how hard it had been to not know…
"Love…"
1 year later. Last Chance, North Carolina
Set in between the marshes of Wysocking Bay and the shallow waters of Lake Mattamuskeet, the two-storey frame and weatherboard house perched on a slight rise, catching the breezes from both bodies of water, and providing reaching views over the Sound. The narrow road leading to the house was bounded by pastures and crops of the farms that filled the area, and at night, the sky was filled with a million stars.
Castiel stood beside the window of the large living room, warmed by the driftwood fire on the raised hearth, looking out at the storm-tossed waves in the Sound, the sky louring and chill in the aftermath of the powerful Atlantic storm that had passed through overnight.
He had been uncertain of the advisability of their plans, to absent themselves like this from the world, alone and unprotected against the creatures that hunted them. The wards and guards that surrounded the modest house were powerful. He'd had to wait for Dean to cut a path through the interlocked mazes before he'd been able to enter. Turning back to look at them, and their child, he had to admit he had never seen Dean so at ease, that wariness that had seemed a welded-on part of the man now gone.
It made their insouciance even more frustrating and inexplicable.
"I don't understand, Dean. The Leviathans have disappeared—yet you—neither of you—seem at all worried?"
Dean picked up a couple more pieces of wood from the pile beside the hearth and put them on the fire, flicking a sideways glance at Ellie. Castiel saw her response; a one-sided smile, and a shrug. Her attention returned to her son, holding John's hands as he toddled the few steps toward her.
"Cas, I don't think you need to worry about it so much," Dean said, settling himself on the floor opposite Ellie. He steadied his son as John attempted a hundred and eighty degree turn toward him.
The angel looked with fresh disbelief from one to the other. "They are planning on turning humans into…into…their own private herd, and you don't think I should be worried?"
"It's just that it's been taken care of," Ellie said, her gaze on John's progress toward his father.
"Taken care of—how?"
"Cas, sit down. Relax. Play with your godson." Ellie lifted her head, smiling at him. "It really is okay."
Castiel shook his head. "How long are you two going to stay here?"
They looked at each other over John's head.
"For a while," Ellie said, holding out her hands as John turned again, heading toward her.
"Till we're ready to go back to work," Dean added with a shrug.
"When will that be?" Castiel looked from Dean to Ellie in exasperation.
"In a while." Dean grinned at Ellie.
"When we're ready to go back to work," Ellie agreed, dimples appearing in her cheeks as she suppressed a smile.
Castiel huffed in disapproval then disappeared, the fire flaring slightly with the disturbance of the air, and John's eyes widening at the sound of fluttering wings.
"He really needs to lighten up." Dean stretched out along the floor, head resting on one hand, the other ready to catch John if he wobbled as the boy made his way slowly and unsteadily back.
"I think Michael made him some kind of special attaché to humankind. He's taking it very seriously." Ellie smiled at the memory of the angel's irritation. "He'll get over it."
"Da!" John stared imperiously into his father's face from a distance of six inches.
"What?" Dean levered himself upright and picked the boy up, tucking him into the crook of his arm and tickling him gently along the ribs. The delighted gurgle and shriek made them both laugh.
"Nap time." Ellie got up. "Do you want to take him up?"
"Yeah, it won't take long; he's making his tired face already." He turned for the stairs, and Ellie heard his deep voice rumbling softly as he told his son it was definitely time for bed.
She walked to the window, watching the sky and sea darken. By tomorrow, it would all be clear again, but the wind would stay for a day or two longer. Then they'd have some quiet sunny days, and another storm would come blustering and blowing over from the east.
The place had been good for them, peaceful and quiet; the locals friendly but about as sociable as they were, which was to say not very sociable at all. Figuring out all the pitfalls and worries of first-time parents had been easier here, no one to comment or judge or offer well-meaning suggestions. Just the two of them dealing with it together.
She stretched upward, letting out her breath in a long, leisurely exhale. She'd been waiting for signs from Dean that he was getting restless, that worry about the state of his brother, or the world, would eat at him, and he'd be driven into returning to Oregon, to get moving on the problems they knew existed. But he was relaxed, his wounds healing up to fine white lines, sleeping easily every night and showing every indication he was contented and happy with their insular life.
She listened to the soft footfalls of his feet on the stairs, then crossing the room behind her. His arms slid under hers and he wrapped them around her, resting his chin on her shoulder as the last remnants of daylight faded from the land and sea.
"We probably should have told him."
She smiled. "He's an angel, he'll figure it out."
He snorted against her neck. "You know, you have a real mean streak."
"You finally noticed?"
"Sam called earlier; he and Trish are headed out here next week. They're going to drop Cassie off in Charlotte on the way." He straightened up slightly. "He also said that Garth and Adam picked up a lot of data from the geological survey team you asked them to check. They'll send it over tonight."
She tilted her head to one side. "Has Frank been through it?"
"Didn't say. I would guess so, since everything is being routed through him for security."
"How's Trish doing?" Her mouth quirked up at the corner. "Still rhapsodising?"
He laughed. "Nope, not anymore. Sam said she's huge, and her back aches."
"Well, she's carrying two." She turned in the circle of his arms, looking up at him.
"Yeah, Sam sounded pretty nervous."
"Couldn't have happened to a more deserving couple." She smiled widely. "You hungry?"
The smile faded away as she looked into his eyes and saw his expression.
"Yeah." He bent his head and kissed her.
A familiar languid heat rose through her as the kiss deepened. Their first few times after the birth and moving here had been wild and desperate, lightning and thunder, and being unable to let each other go. Partly, she'd thought, because they'd come so close to losing each other. Partly because they were facing a new life, one that didn't follow the old rules, and they both felt the fear of having much more to lose now. Gradually, over the last few months, those fears had dissipated. Maybe not dissipated, she thought, but they'd become accustomed to them.
His fingers moved over her clothes, stripping them from her, as her own unbuttoned and undid his. The feel of his skin under her hands brought a delicate charge to her nervous system, and she opened her eyes to look at him, her breath catching as he touched her, his fingers sliding through the swollen, wet folds to push into her, his thumb rubbing insistently and sending shockwaves through her.
She arched back as his lips trailed down her throat, shuddering at the sensations he was causing, her breath coming fast and shallow, heart racing until she could only cling to him, and his mouth covered hers again as she came.
He picked up her up easily and walked to the long couch in front of the fire, laying her on it, stretching out beside her, his eyes fluttering shut and a low groan escaping him as her hands and mouth moved over him, seeking out the places that she knew intimately, touching him the way he liked to be touched, the caresses that ignited him, until he was throbbing and his half-open eyes were mutely pleading. She slid off him and pulled him onto her, watching his face as he pushed in, his eyes rolling back slightly as her tight, velvet heat engulfed him, and they both sighed deeply with the first deep thrust. Seeing his arousal, his pleasure, never failed to intensify her own and she could feel that need, that deep-seated itch that presaged her climax, building and growing inside of her with every stroke.
Dean looked down at her face as he felt the beginnings of her tightening, the tremors that presaged the fast hard ripples that inevitably tipped him over. Right now, he could still focus enough to see her lost in the wash of pleasure that was building, her eyes dark, the pupils huge, her lips parted as she said his name softly, like a caress. He moved faster, getting lost himself, and wanting nothing more than to stay lost here with her, the two of them fitting together so perfectly that he couldn't feel a difference between them.
She arched against him abruptly, driving him deeper into her, the muscles surrounding him beating a fast staccato rhythm along him, and he let go, riding the wave with her, drowning happily in the sensations they were sharing.
Later, they curled against each other, their skin still warm and hearts beating at a normal pace again. He kissed her brow, pulling her closer.
"Did I tell you today that I love you?" he asked her quietly. She shook her head slightly.
"No, not today."
"I do." He looked down at her. "Love you."
"I love you." He felt the lift of her cheek against the muscle of his chest as she smiled.
CNBC News
"The financial market suffered another blow today, as stocks of the highly successful Richard Roman Enterprises fell dramatically for the fourth week in a row, in response to the disappearance of the businessman and almost thirty of his senior staff."
"Four weeks ago, concerns for the businessman were raised after what appeared to be the residue from several chemical bombs were found on the executive level at the head office of the company, based in Chicago, Illinois. Police and the FBI believe that the black toxic material found may be related to the terrorist bombings of last year, when ten of Roman's affiliated and subsidiary company premises were targeted."
"Since then, more chemical residue has been found at several more of the company's offices across the country, and authorities remain baffled concerning the nature of the substances, as no explosives or bomb casing materials have been found. The continued absence of Dick Roman is being regarded as highly suspicious and the police and FBI now hold little hope for Roman to be found alive."
"The stocks took their first dive on the day of Roman's disappearance, with many in the business world believing that Roman was the driving force behind the business and without him, the company cannot continue its meteoric rise. Since then, they've fallen several more times with their current value a fraction of the original price. Several investors sold short just before the fall, and many more are wishing they had."
Trust I seek and I find in you
Every day for us something new
Open mind for a different view
And nothing else matters
END