Chrys smiled and watched Sam chase their daughter across the backyard.

Mary Grace, at five years old, was tall, like her parents. She had the same deep chestnut hair as her father, and the same bright blue eyes as her mother. She was smart and funny and bright, she was everything Chrys could have wanted in a daughter, had she ever actually wanted a daughter.

She watched her husband tackle Mary, their child's peals of laughter ringing through the summer air.

Dean, Lisa, and Ben were on their way for lunch, and Chrys was looking forward to it. Sometimes the little family they had created made her swell with joy, which was extremely uncharacteristic, but true.

Her smile faltered when Sam scooped Mary over his shoulder and looked up to see the black, dangerous clouds rolling across the sky. Chrys opened her mouth to cry out to him, but before she could, her family was swallowed by darkness.

"No!"

"Chrysanthemum."

Memories poured into Chrys, and she remembered who she was. The bride of Lucifer, not the bride of Sam Winchester.

When she turned, Lucifer was wearing Sam's face. None of the inherent kindness was there, and he was cold, closed off to her. He was every inch an archangel, a fallen soldier, the devil.

"My beloved wife."


Chrys woke in a cold sweat, with real, honest fear trickling through her. "What the hell?" she asked softly, sitting up and rubbing a hand down her face.

That wasn't real. It had had none of the realism of the dreams that Lucifer had hijacked over the years, only the strange hyperrealism of regular dreams.

Well then what the fuck? Why would her brain voluntarily dream of Lucifer?

The answer, of course, was that it hadn't been a dream. It had been a nightmare.

She was having nightmares for the first time in her life because now, now, she understood fear. Before Sam, she hadn't had much to lose. Life hadn't been kind to her, it had been downright shitty, and she wasn't afraid to lose her own. She wouldn't have counted it as much of a loss.

But now, she had something to lose. She had Sam, Dean, and Bobby. Even Castiel was thrown in there. She had Kev and Serene again, and Jesse. For fuck's sake, over the last year, she had made what amounted to a little family of her own with Sam.

And baby makes three.

Chrys had had a nightmare because she was, for the first time ever, absolutely terrified of losing her life.


Dean raised his eyebrows in surprise when heard Sam and Chrys's bedroom door open and close. He was used to being the first one up for several hours, but the soft footsteps on the stairs told him that he would have Chrys as company this morning.

When she came into the kitchen, she didn't even seem to realize he was there. He frowned as she grabbed Sam's coat and walked outside without a word. He stood to follow her, shrugging his own coat on before he went out the door.

He found her leaning against the house, eyes closed, her head leaned back. "Everything all right, Summers?"

She shrugged without opening her eyes. "As all right as it can be, I guess."

He came to stand next to her, leaning against the wall. He didn't want her out here alone, there was too much danger, too many people who wanted to hurt them. But he understood the need for silence, so he kept his trap shut.

Dean liked Chrys. He liked that she put Sam in his place, he liked that she put Dean in his place. She was smart and tough and mouthy, and was quickly becoming one of Dean's closest friends.

The news that she was carrying his niece had rocked him a little. He had, of course, known that she and Sam weren't celibate, but he had hoped they were being responsible, at least. And now, the question, "Where the hell were the condoms?" seemed inappropriate.

So instead of asking, he would just make sure she was taken care of.

"Do you think we can win?" she asked softly.

He let the question roll around in his mind for a moment. "If we can find a way to ice the devil, yes," he said simply. "And I think we will find a way."

She nodded, and he turned to look at her. "Do you?" he asked softly.

She took a deep breath. "I think if there's a way to beat him, you guys will find it."

Dean let the silence reign for a while longer before he spoke. "Chrys," he said gently, turning to look at her. Her blue eyes fixed on him, and he tried to convey comfort. "Chrys, I hope you know that I'll protect you, and the baby, with my life. Sam feels the same way, I know he does."

She smiled and nodded. "I know, Dean."

He nodded once. "Then let's go get some food in you, Summers. You're eating for two now."


Two weeks later, Chrys was going to strangle the Winchester brothers.

They had been running nonstop for two weeks, looking for a way to kill Lucifer. They had spoken to witches, with doctors, Satanists, hoodoo men and women, warlocks, and everything in between. When Chrys wasn't investigating with Sam, she was calling people from her past, the groups of people who had tried to help her break her bond with Lucifer.

Her list added a lot of variety, and a lot of travelling, to the list that the men had come up with. She worked just as hard as they did. Or, at least, she tried to work as hard as they did.

Now that the Winchesters knew she was pregnant, they followed her around like tall, cranky nannies. They were always pushing food into her hand, asking her if she'd had enough rest or water or whatever, and it was driving her absolutely insane. She knew it was because they cared, and because they were worried, but it was getting harder and harder to bite her tongue. She was only three and a half weeks along, for fuck's sake.

When they got to the motel that night, it was a battle not to slam the door of the Impala. Once she was standing, she took a deep breath, running her hands through her hair. She wanted a long, hot shower, and more than an hour of sleep.

Sam came to stand next to her, his big hand warm on the small of her back. "How you holding up, beautiful?"

She sighed and gave into the urge to lean into him. "I'm tired, Sam."

She tensed when he exhaled sharply. "Well, yeah, you haven't gotten more than a couple of hours of sleep over the past two weeks. Maybe you-"

"Absolutely not," she snapped, glaring at him, and then glaring at Dean when he came to stand next to them. "Quit coddling me, you morons, I'm fine. I've gotten just as much rest and food and whatever else you're about to bitch about as the two of you, and I'm still standing. So shut the fuck up about it."

Dean frowned. "Chrys, we're just-"

"Making sure I'm fine, I know. I am. But I'm going to violently murder both of you if you keep it up." She took a deep breath and pressed her face into Sam's shoulder. "Let's just… I don't suppose we can get a decent amount of sleep tonight?"

She saw Dean shrug in her peripheral vision. "Don't see why not. We've got no new leads, that Native American priestess you put us in contact with doesn't want us until tomorrow evening, and she's only a few hours away. No reason not to get a few hours in."

Chrys sighed, relief coursing through her. She leaned more heavily into Sam. "Thank fucking Christ."


Sam lay awake next to Chrys, who had damn near fallen asleep in her clothes the moment she'd laid down. He had gently convinced her to get up so he could pull her clothes off, dropped one of his old t-shirts over her head, undressed himself, then slipped them both between the sheets on the bed. Now he was watching her sleep, her chest rising and falling, and let himself be lost in his thoughts.

She had been incredible these last two weeks, coming up with leads, seemingly out of nowhere, talking to people, investigating, and never uttering a word of complaint. He knew he was laying it on thick when it came to making sure she was taking care of herself, and he knew she thought it was about the baby. But it was about her. It was about how head over heels in love he was with her.

It was also about the fact that he'd had to keep his hands to himself for three weeks. They had been constantly on the move, snagging motel rooms to sleep for an hour or two before hitting the road again, desperate to find a way to defeat Lucifer. They'd barely had a moment to themselves to think, much less to do anything else.

His eyelids started to droop, and he felt exhaustion weighing heavy on his shoulders. So he pulled her close, buried his face in her hair, and slept, deciding that he'd make love to her tomorrow morning instead.


Sam didn't get a chance to make his move on Chrys, because he woke up with her hot, incredible mouth on his cock.

He woke up with a gasp, moving his hands down to thread through and fist in her hair. She moaned low, sending vibrations up through his cock, and he tilted his head back and tried hard not to thrust into her mouth.

She moved back until just his tip was in her mouth and sucked hard, making Sam's eyes roll back in his head, then she took his entire length into her mouth until he could feel the back of her throat against him. "Jesus Christ, Chrys, fuck!"

She pulled off of him with a pop! She smiled up at him with a devastating, warm, loving smile that made his heart beat even faster than her mouth on him had. "Morning, Sammy," she said softly. Her hair was spilling over one shoulder, her bright blue eyes hot and twinkling.

He surged up and pulled her up toward him, kissing her hard, keeping her still with his hand on the back of her head. She whimpered and crawled up his body until she was straddling him, gasping and moaning into his mouth. He swallowed all of her little noises, then moved to kiss his way down her neck, pausing to worship the place where her neck met her shoulder. She tilted her head back and ran her fingers through his hair. "Oh, Sam," she sighed.

He put his hands on her hips and moved to center her over him, his hands slipping under the hem of the t-shirt she was wearing and moving up the warm skin of her back. He pressed gentle kisses to her collarbone through the material of the shirt she was wearing. "Mmm, this really does look better on you," he murmured against her, tugging on the edge of the shirt.

She hovered over him, the heat from her core making him shudder. She looked down at him and smiled. "Flattery will still get you everywhere, handsome."

He grinned, wrapped his arms around her, and turned, pinning her to the bed with his weight. He savored the way she wrapped her long legs around his waist automatically, moving her hips to press into him. He moaned and pressed his face into her neck. "Ah, fuck, Chrys."

She whimpered and tilted her head back. "Sam, please, please," she moaned, the noises going straight to his cock, driving him crazy.

"Tell me what you want, Chrys," he husked against her warm skin. "Come on, baby, gotta say it for me."

She moaned and canted her hips up, managing to impale herself onto the first couple inches of his cock before he could move back. He groaned and dropped his head onto her shoulder. "You, Sam," she whispered, running her hands up and down his back, "I want you."

He sank into her slowly, savoring her gentle whimpers and soft sighs. When he bottomed out, they moaned in unison, and he shuddered as she sank her teeth into his neck.

He set a slow, gentle pace, worshipping her, loving her with his hands and his mouth. When she came, she cried out his name, and he felt it everywhere at once as pleasure rolled through him like a tidal wave, and he moaned into her shoulder.

He rolled to his side and brought her with him, pulling her face into his chest. She cuddled into him without complaint, tangling their legs together and pressing her lips to his skin. He held her through the aftershocks, kissing her forehead and keeping her flush against him.

She looked up at him and smiled. "Morning."

He grinned and brushed her hair out of her face. "Morning, beautiful."

She turned to kiss his palm and smiled at him. "Breakfast?"


Dean watched Chrys and Sam order breakfast as he sat at the table they had snagged. He watched the way Chrys moved to accommodate Sam, which she had always done. She had always been extremely aware of his little brother, and had always moved around him instead of with him.

But now Sam was moving around her, they were moving together. He shifted to wrap an arm around her, pressing an absent-minded kiss to her temple while they waited for their order. She was wrapped in Sam's coat, and her arm had snaked around his waist.

Dean wasn't born yesterday, he knew that part of their newfound affection was because of the baby.

He also thought that his little brother had probably fallen in love.


Chrys lay in the back of the Impala, warmth glowing in the middle of her chest. They were on the way to the Native American priestess that Chrys had called, and even though they were in a terrible situation, on their way to find a terrible solution, she couldn't wipe the little smile off of her face.

The happiness in her veins was in direct correlation to Sam. The tender he had held her that morning, the way he'd worked so hard to take care of her the last two weeks. A full night's sleep had given her perspective, and his hovering and stupid, macho, you're-a-woman-who-needs-to-be-watched-carefully-because-you-can't-make-decisions-for-yourself bullshit was making her all warm and fuzzy on the insides. It was the patriarchy at work, telling her that she shouldn't be walking or working while she was pregnant, but it was caring and so warm and he was so handsome that, in the end, she didn't really mind.

He looked back in the seat and smiled as he flipped the phone in his hand shut. "What are you smiling about?"

She smiled back. "Nothing at all, Sammy, not at all."

God, I love you.


**Happy holidays, beautiful readers! I hope everyone who celebrates Christmas had a good time, and everyone who doesn't ALSO had a good time. I actually celebrate Yule, and in case you aren't familiar, that means I stayed up all damn night and am now exhausted. On top of that, we're fostering five-week-old puppies (named Winch and Chester, wink wink), so the next chapter may take an extra day or two.
**Some fluff and smut for you before we enter the world of pain that is at the end of S5.
**Thank you, all of you who are sticking with Sam and Chrys. Thank you for loving them as much as I do.
**Feedback gives me the warm fuzzies and keep me going.