Sophie had her fourteen-week ultrasound before they left for Kansas. She spent the whole car ride home alternately gazing at the grainy black and white image and puking into a garbage bag.
"You know if you looked out the windshield you probably wouldn't throw up?" Dean had suggested at one point.
The suggestion was met with a glare.
"I get to see my baby," Sophie said emphatically, "I don't care if that makes me throw up. That's all she does at this point! Might as well embrace it."
He chuckled and kept on driving.
They got back to Lebanon around dinner. Sophie was exhausted. Dean was relieved.
They had a plan now. For once in his life it seemed everything was actually going to be okay.
"Sam promised he'd cook," Dean said as they got to the door, "You go to the kitchen and I'll meet you there."
Sophie had the ultrasound printout clutched to her chest. Dean tucked her phone into her pocket and kissed her head, picking up the rest of their bags. She had no idea what Sam and Cas had planned. Dean sent a quick text to the two of them. She's on her way.
Sophie was beyond grateful that Dean had their bags. A few weeks ago her equilibrium wasn't quite so bad, even though she'd felt overall much worse. But now, with her bump growing and her center of gravity shifting, she had no idea how she'd make it down those steps with a suitcase in her hands.
She went first to her bedroom and took off her shoes, wondering absently how long she'd be able to reach her feet, then made for the kitchen. It smelled great.
And when she got to the door Sam and Cas jumped her, pulling her into a tight hug and showing off what they'd prepared.
"Happy baby shower," Sam said cheerfully.
"We look forward to meeting the new very small and incompetent person," Cas managed a smile.
The room was decorated with…question marks. Yep. Question marks. And a large banner along one wall that read "Welcome Unnamed Winchester Baby."
"You let Cas decorate?" Sophie whispered to Sam.
"It just sort of happened," Sam replied, "We assumed you'd be telling us girl or boy today so he thought questions marks were a reasonable theme."
"But you didn't let him cook right?" Sophie asked.
"Not a chance," Sam replied, "There's lasagna in the oven."
"Thank you both," Sophie said as Dean came in and hugged her from behind.
"You like it?" He asked.
"You knew?" She countered.
"For the last week or two, not until after we were up at Jody's," Dean replied.
"It's lovely," Sophie cradled her belly.
"Gifts!" Sam announced, gesturing excitedly at a haphazardly wrapped and seemingly misshapen piece of furniture in one corner.
Sophie, carefully, pulled off the paper and found a very, very nice bassinet.
"I figured that…considering…you wouldn't want a nursery," Sam said, "So I went with this. And it is toxin free. Before you ask. I still do not know what that means but it said so on the website and I called four hippie pediatricians in California to check. "
"Thank you," Sophie said, "It's perfect Sam. Really"
"And this is from me and Jimmy," Cas said, handing them an envelope.
Dean opened it and found a check for one hundred and fifty-seven thousand dollars.
"What is this?" He asked.
"My retirement fund," Cas replied.
"You liquidated Jimmy's retirement fund?" Sophie asked, "Won't he need that?"
"No," Cas said, "I can assure you he won't."
"Well…" Sophie trailed off, "Thank you?"
"Now," Cas continued, "Big question. Boy or girl? I cannot smell a difference."
He got uncomfortably close and sniffed Sophie's belly.
"I told you man," Dean snapped, "You have got to stop doing that."
"It's a girl," Sophie said, gently but firmly pushing Cas to arm's length.
"Congratulations guys," Sam said, "We're really happy for you."
"Now who wants cake?" Cas asked, completely deadpan, "That's what you say at this point? Right? When you're having a party?"
—
Dean stumbled into the library, sweaty and disheveled. He took Sam by the arm and started dragging him into the hall.
"Sophie is in what her doctor refers to as a nesting phase," Dean panted, "Which means I have rearranged our bedroom seventeen times in the last three days. Including seven times this morning. You're younger. You're bigger. You're helping."
"What?" Sam asked.
Dean stopped and turned to look at him.
"So apparently there's this phase in your second trimester where some hormone flicks a switch in your brain and decides it needs to redecorate everything," Dean said, "She bought two gun safes. I cannot figure out how to open them. She's suggested painting the Impala twice now. I have eight different sets of outlet protectors in an Amazon cart on my laptop - in spite of the fact that every single outlet in this place is up high. And I have currently hidden every internet connected device we own on a shelf she can't reach for fear of what rabbit hole she will fall down next. At this exact moment she is fixated on how to organize our bedroom furniture so that it's the easiest to take care of our daughter in the night when she wakes up. I am loosing it and my back hurts. Come. Help. Now."