It was evening in early spring. The brim were spawning, the grasshoppers singing, the ground warm, and the grass smelling sweet. Castiel told Laura about his theories pertaining to their daughter being a Nephilim while they fished in a neighbor's cow pond. True, the neighbors had not invited them, but what they didn't know wouldn't hurt them. Laura's craving for raw fish (tactfully referred to as sushi around the house) had gone up a notch in her third trimester (or her third month in angel pregnancy).
Laura was quiet after listening to Castiel, staring out over the water that was still a glass and reflective of the coral-hued setting sun. A dragonfly alighted on her cork, like a steampunk sapphire. "I don't know what to think, baby," she said after a long time. "If she was a Nephilim, she would already have wings, right?"
"Not necessarily," replied Castiel, studying the tadpoles in the shallows. "She could simply be a late bloomer. Or this could all be the useless driveling of a first-time father. You can chose what you want to believe, I suppose."
"Nah," said Laura, reeling in to replace her cricket. "I believe you."
Castiel faced her, head tilted curiously.
"I don't know, but something tells me our daughter," she dropped a hand to her belly. "Is going to be an amazing girl. Good gracious, she already glows, Cas."
"If she is more angel than human," said Castiel, voice filled with trepidation. "Then she may fall prey to the prophecy made about all Nephilims at the time of the Great Flood."
"What was the prophecy?" insisted Laura. "All the details, leave nothing out."
"That any half-angel, half-human baby that erred on the side of angelic and grew to adulthood would fall prey to the sin nature of its human side. That that Nephilim would destroy itself through greed, lust, or a hunger for power."
The air over the cow pond was very still after that, although the insects still sang and the sun cast orange light over everything. Laura mulled it over carefully. "So you're saying that if she's Nephilim, she could have wings she can't hide and epic powers that her sin nature drives her to misuse?"
"Yes."
"And if she's more human than angel, she would have no wings, fractional power, and relative normalcy?"
"Yes."
More silence. Then, Laura let out a half-laugh that was not of humor. "You know, I can't even muster up an inkling of desire for her to be more human." She met her husband's eyes with the expression a veterinarian wears as it puts down an animal. "Not even an inkling. I want her to be more angel, because even if it comes with cons attached, I know, I KNOW she can handle it." Laura flicked her pole absently. "I want her to be more like you, because I love you. Everyone has the capacity to sin and do wrong: but with two dynamite parents like us," she finished with a look of determination, "I am positive she will overcome every stumbling block genetics, prophecy, future and legend can throw at her."
Castiel slowly melted into a smile. He loved his wife's fierceness, her drive, her unshakable will, her protectiveness. It rivaled his own. And in the case of their child, it made them unstoppable. "I am glad you said that. Because it would be very hard if you had wanted her more human."
"You want her to be Nephilim, too?"
Castiel sighed, moving up the bank a few feet to sit next to Laura. "It is...incredibly hard, nearly impossible for a human like you to understand. Wings are not just appendages, or limbs, or pretty things on our backs. They make us who we are. Without them, we are defenseless, nothing more than glorified statues. I want our daughter to know power, yes: but I intend to give her the tools to master her own heart's desires." He dropped his hand to hers. "With your help, of course," he added as an afterthought.
"Of course," snorted Laura. Her cork bobbed on the surface, then disappeared.
Hour One of Pushing Phase.
Castiel, seated behind Laura with his legs forming arms to a chair, was rubbing his wife's belly. "You're doing great," he said to her. "Keep it up, almost done."
"This isn't a cardio hip-hop routine, Cas," she responded, rotating her sweaty face to look him indignantly in the eye. "It's pushing a six-pound baby out of your - !" Another contraction took over, and Laura's hands resumed their death grip on his knees. If he weren't an angel, he'd have significant bruises. As it was, he'd just have regular bruises.
"How's she looking?" asked the midwife, a witch named Adrienne.
Castiel looked into Laura's womb. "She's descended another three inches, approximately. Position is normal."
Adrienne nodded. "Good. She's slow, but as long as Laura holds out with energy, there's no problem."
"Still here, you know," muttered the mother-to-be, relaxing for the precious minutes she had between contractions.
The midwife smiled, scratching her long blonde hair sheepishly. "Sorry. Want some ice, honey?"
"No, thanks," Laura replied, returning the smile tiredly. "How much longer? Give me an estimation."
"About four hours, at this rate."
"Crap."
Castiel chuckled.
"You are enjoying yourself far too much, mister," growled Laura.
"It's not every day, or even every millennium, that my daughter is born," he replied proudly, rubbing her pregnant belly as if it were the Buddha's.
Laura gave an acquiescent, if nonconformist nod. "All the same, wipe that grin off your face."
Hour Four of Pushing Phase.
In the living room, all three hunters waited with varying degrees of discomfort and patience.
"Push, once more!"
"AAAAAAHHHH!"
Dean looked at Sam, tinged green around the mouth. "Oh God," said the older Winchester. "It's like hell all over again."
"Easy, bro," replied Sam shakily, face pale. "It's just - "
"AAAAAAAAHHHH!"
" - childbirth," he finished weakly.
Bobby was pacing while the boys shifted from couch to chair to feet and back again. "Christ, I'd forgotten how hard this is," he grumbled, scrubbing his face. "She's been at it for hours. Shouldn't she...?"
"It can take three hours or more," said Sam hollowly. Another blood-curdling scream resounded through the house. "From what I've learned -"
"On the internet," interjected Dean.
" - contractions of this intensity mean that the baby is coming soon."
"YOU ARE NEVER COMING NEAR ME AGAIN! GOT IT, ANGEL BOY?"
"Not nearly soon enough," muttered Bobby.
Laura lay panting on the soaked bed, covered in no small amount of blood, amniotic fluid, and other things she didn't want to think about. Her belly ached, her lady parts were on fire, her body was totally naked save for a convenient sheet, and her cheeks were crusty with tear tracks that were in a state of constant renewal.
But all that didn't matter. Her eyes were fixed on the little squalling body in her husband's arms.
Castiel was beaming from ear to ear, the biggest smile he'd ever had, and glanced to his wife's anxiously joyful face. "She's perfect." He swept to the side of the bed, dodging the retreating midwife, and lay the precious swaddled bundle in Laura's hands.
Laura's tears fell faster. The baby girl wailed, but Laura heard the sounds of healthy lungs. Her skin was a shocking pink, but Laura saw evidence of a strong heart. She counted the fingers and toes at a glance: twenty phalanges in all. "Lyra," she breathed. "I've waited so long to meet you, baby girl."
Castiel stroked his wife's hair, damp with sweat, and bent to lightly kiss her lips. "We did it," he said.
"We did," she beamed.
"Hey, little girl," he mumbled, tickling one waving hand. It closed on his finger in a tight fist.
Laura tilted the baby to her chest and began to nurse. Lyra drank instinctively and greedily.
"In all my thousands of years," whispered Castiel. "I've never seen anything so beautiful."
Laura smiled up at him, eyes full of love.
As Lyra pulled away from nursing and began to cry again, Adrienne poked her head into the room again with a smile. "You've got two uncles and a grandpa out here about to stand on their heads."
Laura and Castiel laughed. "Send 'em in," Laura said. Castiel mojo-ed the sheets clean, Adrienne ducked out, and in seconds the room was full of bodies.
"Jeez, you've got some lungs," remarked Dean, peering over Castiel's shoulder. He eyed the baby like a time bomb. The hunter's eyes were wide, and his body language spoke of whipcord nervousness that was slowly abating.
"Yeah, she sure does," giggled Laura, lightly brushing the smooth skin under her fingertips.
"Actually, I meant you. Bet the neighbors thought we were committing murder."
They laughed. "She's beautiful," murmured Sam, going to the other side of the bed. "Looks like Laura." He, too, looked like he was shaking the utter terror that was inspired by the sounds of childbirth.
"I say she looks like Cas," Bobby remarked from Sam's side. "Same shape of 'er nose..." The oldest hunter spoke with a thick throat. Under the shade of his hat brim, his eyes glistened.
The little girl flailed blindly, for her eyes were screwed shut. The sound of the Bobby's gravelly voice caught her attention and she quietened down, eyes popping open to show bright cerulean blue. She huffed three quick breaths, staring at him, then resumed crying with extreme vigor. Laura threw back her head and laughed, accompanied by the rest of the room. "Wanna hold her, grandpa?"
Bobby looked startled, but extended his arms. Laura carefully passed her daughter to him. He accepted the precious bundle, cradling the baby's head in the crook of an elbow and supporting her butt with his other hand. For a moment, Bobby's expression was torn between old memories of holding his own daughters and the happiness of holding this one. But then, as his hand migrated to get a better hold, his face drained of color. "Oh, God."
"What? What is it?" asked Laura, panic creeping in. She held out her arms again, and Bobby quickly passed the baby back. As he did, the blanket fell away from the tiny body...
to reveal two unnatural appendages fused to her shoulder blades.
Laura gasped, flipping the baby to her stomach. "What in the world? Castiel, what in the world?"
Castiel bent over his daughter, hands light and quick. "Dear Father," he breathed. "They're wings."
The baby gave, for lack of a better word, a God-awful screech that shook her tiny body with the ferocity. The appendages looked like jointed loops of flesh-covered bone beginning and ending in the same, slightly-bloodied holes, as though they had pushed themselves out at the second joint. At the tail end of her mighty shriek, the tips of the bones popped out of the holes, and the wings lay flat on her shoulders, wet and limp. The baby grew deathly still and silent.
"No, no, no!" cried Laura, hugging her daughter to her chest. Heart-wrenchingly, "NOOO!"
"What's wrong with her?"
"Help her!"
"Adrienne!" roared Castiel. He reached for his daughter with his eyes aglow with power...
"Don't!" yelled the midwife witch, throwing Dean to the side with remarkable strength to push the angel's hands away. Pulling a vial necklace from under her shirt, Adrienne dove between the father and child, pried open the infant's mouth, and emptied the vial's contents between her toothless gums. Frantically, she rubbed Lyra's throat. There was a split second of absolute terror, of utter, doomed, complete silence.
And then Lyra began to breath again, then gurgle-cry. Her wings, each a half foot long and tapered like a chicken's, began to goosepimple. These nubs grew to individual feathers that lengthened absurdly fast. They were white, tinged with pink blood.
Laura let out the heaviest breath she'd ever held, and sobbed with relief as the baby picked up crying once again, but much more tiredly. Like a normal baby.
"What was that?" asked Castiel. But he already knew, by the scent and consequence.
"Angelica," said the witch, scrubbing her face with relief. "I didn't know if it would work like this..."
"Why keep it so close at hand?" asked Sam warily, squaring his intimidating stature off with the short witch. "The one herb that keeps humans safe from angels."
"For protection," said the witch evenly, staring Castiel in the eye. "From you, seraph, should something go wrong."
Castiel nodded. He could understand her wanting a contingency plan. "You will have no need for it now."
"I think," sighed the midwife wearily. "I think I need to sit down." She backed up against the wall and slid down it.
Bobby joined her. "Me, too," he said, taking off his hat. "What a day..."
