Sam rushed to her, peeling back the blankets, eyes wide as he saw her arm had been sliced into, Rachel's hunting knife hovering by her bloodied skin. She was shaking, pinned down and silenced by an invisible force—Vance's spirit. Though they salted and burned his bones, there was something he was still clinging to, something he had to destroy to keep Rachel safe.

"It's okay," he said calmly, though he felt anything but. In truth, he was more than scared, knowing without her voice, he was nearly helpless to figure out what the item was.

As Sam went to try to lift her up, he was thrown across the room, his back crashing against the far wall. He groaned, slumping down and trying to get to his feet, but the force knocked him back against the plaster, pinning his limbs to it.

"Don't you touch her," Sam warned, nostrils flared. He watched with gritted teeth as Vance's spirit used Rachel's blood to slowly draw the same symbol of his name she showed him from the case photos. The crimson liquid dripped down the motel wall above the bed she was pinned to. He growled as the knife floated in the air and ran over her arm, then her thigh, drawing more fresh blood. Rachel's stifled screams made him go insane, the tears leaking from the corners of her eyes stirring his rage. "You son of a bitch!" Sam pulled against the hold over him as hard as he could, groaning as he struggled. "If it's me you want, then leave her alone!" Through his fight, he saw Vance write another message under the symbol:

ARIOCH'S WILL LIVES

Sam's heart stopped, nostrils flared as he gritted his teeth and tugged against his restraints. "Let her go, you bastard!" His skin reddened as he pulled, his stomach sickening as he saw the next message:

SHE IS THE SACRIFICE

"You want a sacrifice?" Sam challenged. "Come and get it, you douchebag!" He watched as the knife lifted from near Rachel, spinning around to point to him.

Rachel gasped, the hold on her throat released. "Sam!" she rasped as she coughed, panicked when she saw the blade aimed for him.

"Baby, listen to me," Sam instructed, keeping his eyes on her, ignoring the knife. "Focus on me. Focus on what I'm saying." He saw the knife float closer to him out of the corner of his eye. "Do you have anything of Vance's? Anything at all?"

Before Rachel could answer, the knife lodged into Sam's stomach. "Sam!" she screamed, desperately trying to move to him. Sam groaned, blood spilling from his abdomen down his tee shirt onto his jeans.

Dean burst into the room, eyes wide. After coming to get them for checkout, he heard the commotion and screams, knowing something was very wrong. Rachel looked to him desperately as she tried to break free from Vance's hold. "Dean! Help him!"

As Dean lunged toward Sam, he was blasted out of the motel room not even a second later, the door slamming shut on him. From the outside, Dean wrestled with it, pulling as hard as he could with a grimace, but getting nowhere fast.

Inside, Sam swallowed, looking at Rachel and seeing the fear in her eyes. "Rachel," he said with gentle firmness, gasping for air against the knife in his stomach, "you need to … destroy anything of … Vance's … you have."

"The case for my knife," she whispered with realization.

"Is that it?" She nodded. "Okay—"

Sam growled as the knife was yanked out of his stomach, then slammed back in the other side. He coughed, blood spilling from his mouth. "Oh my God! Sam!" Rachel screamed, her voice raw with desperation. Her eyes widened when she felt her restraints release, immediately moving toward Sam.

"No!" he gasped. "Let him … come after me."

"But Sam—"

Sam wheezed. "Rachel, get the case … and light it … on fire ... with … my lighter ... in the front … of … my bag."

Rachel scrambled off the bed, furiously attacking her bag and grabbing the soft leather pouch that held her knife and her small can of hairspray, throwing the pouch in the trash can and dousing it with the product.

Sam groaned as the knife twisted in him, his head hanging as he was painted in his own blood. Rachel's mouth opened, horrified as she saw the blade withdraw, then sink into him again. "Dean!" she screamed, hands shaking as she tore open Sam's bag to search for the lighter. Dean's banging and yelling punctuated the air, the room rattling with each struggled attempt. Through her tears, she found the lighter and lit a piece of paper, dropping it in the can. She gasped as she saw Sam's shirt tear with the long slice the knife drug through him, Sam's body more than bloody and torn, limp and unresponsive. "Please, Vance! Stop!"

Within a couple moments, the spirit ignited into flames, Rachel's knife dropping to the ground with a clatter and Dean bursting through the door, all of the bonds on them released. Sam collapsed to the ground; Rachel fell to her knees next to him, lifting his heavy head and gasping at his paled face.

"Cas!" Dean shouted, panicked as he saw Sam, "if you can hear me—"

Castiel blinked in, Rachel jumping as he scared her with his quick presence. Castiel made quick work of restoring Sam, then healing her arm and leg. "Shit," she murmured, combing Sam's hair away from his face, his eyes still closed. "Please, Sam. Please come back to me."

Sam sucked in a deep breath, coughing violently as he gripped Rachel for stability, Rachel more than relieved as color filled his face again. Rachel kissed his forehead and cheeks, her tears dripping onto his shirt as she held him, his blood painting her bare legs and arms.

Dean slammed his palm against the wall, head hanging. "This is why we salt and burn the sons a bitches," Dean sighed. "I'm sorry. Never again, Sammy."

"It's not your fault, Dean," Sam assured, slowly standing, Rachel helping him. "Besides, you didn't do it because you took care of Rachel. That's what matters."

"I do hope this is the end of this," Castiel remarked to Sam. "You've had quite the injury run."

"You aren't kidding."

"I'm so sorry," Rachel whispered. "I should've thought about his case sooner."

"You have nothing to be sorry for, baby girl," he assured, drawing her close. "Shit," he murmured, seeing how his blood stained her.

"It's okay," she assured. "But I ruined your shirt."

Sam smirked, coughing. "You should take it off."

Castiel's eyes widened. He cleared his throat. "I, um, am going to, uh, wait outside."

Dean wrinkled his nose. "Yeah, I'm with you, Cas." He pointed between them. "Can you two get cleaned up without getting busy or getting stabbed? I want to get the hell out of Lincoln."

"Me too," Rachel sighed.

Three Weeks Later

Lebanon, Kansas

"Hmm," Rachel pondered playfully as the three entered the bunker. "Hey Sam, can I use your laptop to build my playlist?"

"Sure babe," Sam smirked, seeing Dean's scowl. "I told you, Dean," he laughed, "but you didn't listen to me."

"Cheater," Dean grumbled.

"You made the bet," Rachel shrugged.

"I would've kicked your ass if it was pool."

"Sore loser. Darts is my game."

Dean took out a beer, popping the top. "I can't believe you're going to taint Baby like this. Bad enough when I died that Sam put that MP3 garbage in her."

"Don't forget about me getting to drive too while I make you listen to all of the best nineties pop songs." Rachel couldn't help her smile, seeing how her prize ruffled Dean's feathers.

Dean shuddered. "I hope you're satisfied, sister," he groaned.

"Very much so," she grinned.

"Really?" Sam asked with a small pout, moving behind her and taking her by the hips. "You sure?" He ran his mouth over her jaw, and Rachel's cheeks flushed.

Dean banged his beer down. "Oh no," he said, narrowing his eyes. "This is where I draw the line. No. Sex. In. My. Car."

Sam shrugged. "I wasn't thinking about in the car."

Dean groaned, swiping up his beer. "I'll be hiding from the two of you in the Dean Cave. Try not to make too much damn noise."

"We make a hell of a lot less than Georgia from the 'Bad Hatter' did," Rachel quipped.

Dean paused, giving a small shrug. "She was enthusiastic," he noted.

"She was very drunk."

Though he narrowed his eyes at her, she could see the smile lingering behind her boyfriend's brother's expression. "Are you trying to say that I can only score with drunk girls?"

She smiled. "It wouldn't kill you to, I don't know, see a girl not from a poorly-named bar."

Dean smiled softly back. "Yeah, well we all can't be as lucky as Sammy, now can we?" He gave her a wink before turning away, singing as he left. "Georgia … Geor—-gia …"

Sam caught a glimpse of his brother leaving the room as he kissed the side of Rachel's neck.

"How does it look?" she asked.

With careful fingers, Sam brushed her hair away from the nape of her neck, revealing her freshly inked warding symbol tattooed onto her skin. "Sexy," he murmured, resuming delicately kissing the space next to it. "It's healing nicely."

"Good," she replied noncommittally.

Sam paused, turning Rachel to himself. "You okay?" he asked, brushing his thumb over her cheek.

Rachel smiled, though her stomach felt sick. "I'm fine." She reached up and tenderly kissed Sam, pulling back a little. "I just need to use the bathroom."

"Okay, babe. I'll be in our room." Sam kissed the top of her head, heading toward the hall. Rachel watched him, tightening her hold on the purse slung over her shoulder as she left for the bathroom at the opposite end from their bedroom.

Once locked inside, Rachel set her bag on the counter and pulled out the pharmacy shopping bag she stuffed inside of it, fishing in the plastic until she produced a small, rectangular box. She swallowed hard, her throat immediately drying out as she ran her fingers over the lettering.

With a deep breath, she tore open the package and pulled out the plastic pregnancy test stick. Tears threatened the corners of her eyes, but she bit them back. She hadn't drank that night, opting for iced tea, but loads of it with just this intention.

After using the test, she set it on the counter and refused to look at it, washing her hands and running water over her face while she waited the full allotted two minutes recommended. She stared at her reflection, immediately recalling the night she was taken. It send frigid chills up her spine, and she trembled as she tried to shove the memory away back into the darkened corner of her mind.

When she knew two minutes had more than passed, Rachel looked down to the test. Her face remained neutral as she processed the results, then tucked the test back into the box and shoved it in her purse.

Sam smiled as Rachel came into the bedroom, watching her as she tossed her purse into her corner of the room and quietly changed into one of his plaid shirts. "Tired?" he asked.

"Yeah," she laughed. "You?"

"Not really."

She grinned over at him as she finished buttoning the shirt. "Should I be worried?"

"Not worried. Just prepared," he replied, his smile matching hers.

Rachel climbed into bed and took her glasses off, flicking off the light as Sam drew her close to himself and covered them with blankets. His small groan as he kissed her exposed shoulder shot through her, his large hands skimming down her thighs as his tongue traced the small dip of her collarbone from behind.

With a gentle pull, she was under him, his mouth on hers as he tenderly kissed her. His fingers traveled from her hair to her hips, exploring every bit of her with soft eagerness.

Sam stopped suddenly, brushing the hair from her eyes. Her brow wrinkled. "What's wrong?" she asked.

"I can wait, sweetheart," he assured. "I'm just happy to be with you, regardless."

"No, no," she quickly said, "you don't need to."

His face was more than sincere. "It's fine, baby." He kissed her forehead.

"I want you to," she urged.

Sam paused a moment before he resumed his kiss on her lips, settling between her legs as he ran his mouth down her neck. He pushed her shirt up a little, his fingers skimming across the top of her panties before dipping under. "So beautiful," he murmured, a hum in his throat as he skimmed the top of her core.

"Yankees!" Rachel gasped, her pulse shooting through the roof.

Sam immediately backed away, watching her in concern as she sat up, tucking her legs under herself. "I'm so sorry," he said, pained as he sat up next to her.

"It's … It's not …" She tried to even her breathing. "It's not you."

"Baby girl, it's me," Sam assured gently.

She shook her head. "No, I mean … the reason isn't you. It's just … I …"

Drawing her close, Sam cupped her cheek, fingers brushing over her skin. "Talk to me," he encouraged. "Tell me."

A knot formed in Rachel's stomach while a lump formed in her throat. She felt helpless, like the words didn't exist. "Sam," she shuddered. She kept her eyes on his tattoo, the tears she had been holding in leaking down her cheeks.

He drew her closer as he waited, his own pulse skyrocketing as he watched. "Rachel," he pleaded, dread lining his gut, ice in his veins at her silence. He wiped her tears away. "Baby girl. Talk to me."

Her eyes met his, her lip quivering. There was no changing her fate. He deserved the truth, though she knew it would tear them both apart. Still, this was her future. And he had to know, even if it meant losing him. He deserved that much after all he had been through for her.

Somehow, she found the strength to hold his gaze, seeing the pain she felt mirrored back in his eyes. "I'm sorry," she whispered with a shudder. She paused, lip quivering. "I'm pregnant, Sammy."

Thanks for taking this journey with me! I'll be continuing the story in a second book, which may have current episodes woven through it for continuity. So, follow me for updates! Please leave feedback and let me know where you think things should go! I love hearing from readers, regardless of opinion. :)