A/N: Rowena and Sam have captured my heart and my muse. This is set in an alternate back half of season 13, a few weeks after 13.19 'Funeralia'. Title from an EE Cummings poem.
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the idea, I just steal the characters away.
It's yet another dead end when it comes to finding Lucifer, a trail gone cold despite their best efforts.
They're trudging back to the cars to head back to the bunker when Rowena pauses- her face tightens, and then she's squaring her shoulders, expression thin. "Witches. There are witches close by."
Sam tenses, and Dean curses under his breath as Castiel withdraws his blade on instinct. They form a semicircle, Rowena at the center, surrounded by the men, and her eyes glow violet as she murmurs softly.
"Where?" Dean asks shortly, throwing a glance over his shoulder at the redheaded witch as she continued to mutter.
"Northwest," she finally answers, gaze flicking in said direction. "Two of them, I think. Coming closer."
They shift to face the coming danger, and it takes only a handful of moments for the enemy to appear- a large, stocky man with a pierced nose and dark hair followed by a slim, blue haired woman covered in tattoos. Rowena tenses at the sight of them, and then she's lifting her hands, another stream of utterances escaping her lips as purple electricity crackled around her fingertips.
The Latin phrase she utters manages to sound musical in her accented voice, and the blast lands just short of the other two witches, giving them pause. But they sidestep the divot in the ground and continue forward until mere feet separate the two groups, and then the man speaks, his voice loud against the quiet night air.
"Didn't think I'd see a day when hunters kept a witch safe," he calls, and a low snarl emits from Sam's chest. Dean nearly throws his brother a glare over his shoulder, but he's not keen on taking his eyes off the threat, so his grip on his gun tightens, and he lifts it haughtily.
"Might as well just turn around," he says, and shrugs a shoulder. "Witch killin' bullets, and all."
That, at least, gets a reaction from them- they step back slightly, wariness in their eyes as they examine Dean's relaxed posture despite the raised gun. But then the woman speaks, and Rowena stiffens, eyes darting to Sam across the circle.
"Should use those on her, with what she's carryin'."
Castiel's eyebrows knit together, and he tilts his head to examine the witch curiously. There's no time for a follow up question, though, because then Dean's gun is going off just as a jet of fire comes from the other witches' direction. Rowena bats it away with her own power, hands trembling slightly, and then another crack of the gun has the second witch falling to the dirt as well.
There's a pause, the dust settling, and then Sam is stalking over to Rowena and cupping her face in his hands, worry in his voice as he examined her closely for signs of injury.
"Are you okay?"
"'m fine, Samuel," she assures him, though her voice is thick as she covered his hands with her own and squeezed. "I swear- we're fine."
"Alright," Dean says, and there's a sharp question in his voice as he looks at the two of them. "Someone want to tell me what the fuck is going on here?"
Sam doesn't look away from Rowena, just searches her eyes until she nods her assent at the apparent question he was asking, and then shifts to face his brother and Castiel, Rowena's fingers curling around his own.
"Rowena and I have been together…for a while," he starts, and Dean's eyes blow wide as they dart between the two of them.
"Since when?" he asks, and Sam clears his throat.
"Wichita," he says, and Rowena seems to draw closer to him, fingers tightening around his. "That case with the witch sisters."
Dean blows out a breath, and then scrubs a hand down his face. "What about- the killing reapers thing? Trying to lure Death out? Trying to kill Sam?"
Regret surges across Rowena's pale face, and she swallows hard, avoiding all their gazes as she looked at the ground briefly before she spoke.
"I…was grieving," is how she starts, and then she looks up, one side of her mouth quirking upwards as she gave a half shrug. "And rather overwhelmed by pregnancy hormones, as it would seem."
Dean's face goes slack, and Castiel lets out a breath.
"Samuel, help me with the bindings," she says softly, and then both her hands and his are hovering over her midsection, faint purple and golden light shimmering in the air before Rowena appeared to pull a curtain of wavering air away from her torso, and then-
"Holy shit," Dean said succinctly, and Rowena hummed as both the hunter and angel's gazes fell to where her belly was noticeably rounded, curving out just far enough she could no longer see her own toes. Her hand came to cup the swell, and Sam's wasn't far behind, settling atop hers, and that seemed to cement its reality to Dean. "Not tryin' to be rude or anything but- how is this even possible?"
"She is a witchling," Castiel interrupts the flow of conversation, amazement in his tone as he stared at Rowena's belly. "A deeply powerful one as well, given she's months away from being born."
Rowena's heart fluttered, and she clutched for Sam's hand.
"She?" she asks, and hates the way her voice wavers, but tears are beading in the corners of her eyes at the confirmation of her suspicions. "I've sensed power, but…"
Castiel bows his head.
"I apologize-" he starts, and Rowena shakes her head firmly.
"Don't apologize, angel," she replies, and offers a small smile. "I've always rather wanted a daughter."
Sam's lips touch the top of her head, and warmth spools throughout her belly. But she can tell Dean still wants an answer, so she clears her throat to give him one as delicately as possible.
"Magical contraceptives and magical…sex," she starts lightly, but he winces anyway. "Sometimes that means the pathways cross. I bound my womb a long time ago, but I also hadn't been sleeping with fellow witchkind- or at least, anyone with the amount of raw power your brother possesses. His magic and my magic apparently…unlocked something. It's rare, but it happens without the proper counter precautions, and so…"
She looks up at Sam, a faint flush coloring her cheeks, and he offered her a small, cheeky smile in reply.
"He didn't know, in Washington, that I was pregnant yet," she informs Dean, and swallows hard. "And I do apologize for my actions. Learning about her, and dealing with Fergus's death in such a short span of time…I rather overreacted."
"Why hide it?" Castiel asked, cocking his head curiously.
"Especially from us?" Dean adds, and it's Sam that answers.
"Lucifer," he answers simply, and Rowena can't help the shudder that flickers through her at the name. "He's got witches searching for Rowena- not too deeply, not yet, thankfully- but if he found out she was carrying such a powerful child…"
The unspoken horror of what the devil could do with the child hangs in the air, and Dean nods once in understanding.
"We wove together a few binding spells and a concealment charm to hide it," Rowena finishes, and waves a hand over her belly. "It dampens her latent magic, swirling it into my own signature, and hides the rather profound belly I'm sporting at the moment. But it isn't perfect, as you can tell- those witches knew my signature had changed and were able to guess what I was carrying."
Castiel's face grew serious.
"Does it hurt her?" he asks, and Rowena looks at him, brows furrowed. "The binding charms."
Rowena softened.
"Not at all, dearie. Rather like wearing a corset was in the olden days," she tells him, and when the angel looks at her blankly for the analogy, she chuckles quietly. "She's perfectly snug and content in there, darlin'. No harm done."
"You're stayin' at the bunker," is Dean's next statement, and Rowena blinks in surprise at the conviction in his voice. "Can't have Sammy here worryin' about ya all the damn time. Makes it easier on us all."
She lets him have the excuse for what it was, feels the warm glow of affection for his care of her, and nods. She can feel the rush of hormones before the tears prick her eyes, and then she's turning into Sam's chest with a soft curse, hiding her face as her cheeks grew damp.
"What?" he asks, worried, and she shakes her head.
"I'm so bloody tired of crying," she tells him, and smacks a fist against his chest when he laughs at her, gathering her against him and kissing her forehead. "And your child is demanding food, as well. Something far too salty, if you please."
"I'll get Dean to stop by the diner on the way home, get you some fries and a malted strawberry milkshake," he answers, and Rowena nods, suddenly ravenous for exactly that. "C'mon, now that the secret's out I bet Dean'll let you sit in the front seat of Baby."
It isn't until they're back at the bunker, safely behind the door of their room, that Rowena allows her steadfast resolve to waver.
She's in one of Sam's old t-shirts, the worn blue material stretched over her belly, and she was meticulously braiding her hair into two plaits over each of her shoulders. It was a trick to distract herself, he'd noticed- doing something with her hands so they didn't shake.
"What if we've made a mistake?" she asks softly, voice quavering as she looks up at him with large, liquid eyes. "What if something happens to her?"
Sam crossed the room to sink down on the bed before where she stood; he cupped the swell of her stomach in both hands, feeling the gentle kicks of their daughter within her before he dropped his chin to kiss the crown of her belly.
"She's got an even better chance now," he reminds her quietly, and Rowena chewed on her bottom lip as she looked at him, strands of hair wrapped around her fingers, mid-braid. "She's got Dean and Cas looking out for her now and you and me. And you know I won't let anything happen to her, Rowena. Ever."
Rowena does soften her shoulders at that, cupping Sam's chin between her fingers.
"I know," she whispers, and bends as best she can to kiss him tenderly. "I know, Samuel."
"C'mon. Let's get some sleep," he says, and shifts so they can crawl under the covers together, Sam curled around Rowena's small frame, protecting her even in dreams.
Rowena awakes a few hours later, heart pounding in terror from the nightmare that still clawed to keep its grip on her. Sam's hand still rested against her belly, warm and solid, but her skin was crawling with memories of Lucifer's true face, and she needed a moment to breathe.
Carefully slipping out of Sam's arms, she slips on a pair of his too-big flannel pajama bottoms and shoves her cold feet into a pair of slippers before leaving the room, making sure the door closed with a near silent click before she padded down the hall to the kitchen. She can't tell yet if she's hungry or nauseous, but seeing physical food will help her determination.
She stops short at the sight of Castiel already there, blinking at the sight of him out of his traditional trench coat and tie. He's got on a soft looking gray t-shirt with a band logo splashed across it and a pair of blue fuzzy pajama pants with a cartoon character on it- she realizes, upon further inspection, that it's Scooby Doo.
"Hello," the angel greets in that low voice of his, and Rowena smiles faintly. "Are you hungry? I could make you a sandwich, if you'd like."
She looks at the supplies scattered across the metal counter- bread, peanut butter, jelly, and marshmallow fluff- and her nose crinkles in amusement. "You eat this?"
"No," Castiel answers as she gingerly lowers herself onto a stool, angled slightly to account for her belly. "Dean likes sugar."
She chuckles at that, watching him assemble the thick sandwich, managing to keep it neat and orderly. Her belly rumbles, deciding it was hungry, and Castiel lifts an eyebrow.
"Perhaps just the peanut butter and jelly," she tells him, and he nods affirmatively. "I'd rather not vomit the fluff up later on, as you would."
Castiel's face twitches in disgust, and she laughs quietly. "Aye, it isn't pleasant. The first trimester was something awful, truth be told. Nothing would settle, and the smell of nearly everything had me running for the loo."
She looks into the distance wistfully, lost in a memory. "Only thing that'd settle the wee thing was one of Sam's shirts. One wiff'a that and she'd calm right down."
Rowena shook herself slightly, bringing herself back to the present, and gave Castiel a slightly embarrassed smile. He just gave her a genuine one, placing a peanut butter and jelly sandwich cut diagonally before her.
"Thank you, Castiel," Rowena murmured, and picked up one half of the sandwich, teeth sinking into the soft bread and relishing the sweetness of the peanut butter against her teeth. It's a delight, to eat something so simple, and the child in her womb dances happily at the sugar rush.
"I know things are scary, right now," Castiel says after a few minutes of quiet, and Rowena looks back at him, blinking. "But we are going to figure this out, Rowena. All of us, together. I know we are."
She softens at that, a hand against the mound of her belly and the second half of the sandwich already half-eaten in her other hand. She must look a sight, not a drop of makeup on and hair plaited back and sleep mussed, in Sam's clothing in the dim midnight lighting. But Castiel just looks at her earnestly, Dean's sandwich on a plate held in his hand, and she actually believes his words.
"I know we will, Castiel," she says, and offers him a real, genuine smile. "Go bring your hunter his sandwich before he comes to find you- I'll finish up the dishes here before I head back to bed. Goodnight."
Castiel inclined his head gratefully.
"Goodnight, Rowena."
She watches him walk down the hall towards Dean's room, amusement curling her lips as she pondered, once more, the exact nature of their relationship while she finished the last of her sandwich. She slid off the stool and began to gather the dirty dishes to wash; her belly made it a little more difficult, and she's a little damp by the time she finishes.
"There you are," there's a soft, slightly panicked note to Sam's voice when she turns around to find him in the entryway to the kitchen, dressed in only his boxers like he'd rolled directly out of bed to come find her.
"Bug got hungry," she explains, and points to her belly. Sam's entire being softens, and he strides across the kitchen to envelope her in his arms, his body shaking slightly as if an adrenaline rush was crashing. "I'm sorry, I did'na want to wake you just for a snack."
"No, no- it's fine. It's really fine, I just woke up and you weren't there and my mind- it went places I wish it wouldn't," Sam tells her, and Rowena's heart twists. She guides his hand to her belly, helps him find the place where their daughter still gave a few gentle kicks, just hard enough for him to feel, and watches the last of the tension bleed from his shoulders.
"Samuel," she whispers, and when his eyes lift to hers, no longer are they vaguely tortured. She pulls back just enough so that she can lift the hem of the shirt she wore- she tossed it aside, and the groan Sam emitted at the sight of her topless before him felt like a victory in and of itself.
"Ro…" he warns, aware of their location, and she shook her head.
"They won't bother us," she murmurs, and crooks a finger at him to beckon him closer. "Not as long as we're quiet, love."
Sam's on her instantly, tugging at the loose waist of her borrowed pajama bottoms until she was fully naked. His strong hands lift her up, and then she's being deposited against the countertop, a squeal leaving her at the cool metal against her warm flesh.
"Gotta be quiet, baby," he reminds her of her own words for only moments before, and she whines, shoving at his boxers until he takes the hint and pushes them to his feet, stepping out of them so they join the pile of clothes in the middle of the floor. Rowena spreads her thighs and pulls him in, and then his cock is sliding through where she's hot and wet and aching.
"In me, Samuel," she commands, emerald green tipped nails digging into the flesh of his shoulders in invitation until he flexed his hips and sank inside her. Twin noises escape their throats at the stretch, and Rowena buried her mouth in the hollow of his throat to quiet herself as his thumb moved to circle her clit in short, sharp motions.
The press of her rounded belly, the place where their daughter grew safe and sound, against his own is addictive to Sam. It awoke something primal in him, to know he'd been responsible for helping create the life growing inside her, for making her belly swell. And now there was no more hiding it- everyone would see the swell of her, the swell of them, and know he'd done that to her.
"I like it too," Rowena whispers in his ear, and Sam's thrusts stutter as pleasure blossoms at the base of his spine. "Like knowin' they'll all see me like this and wonder who put this baby in my belly and then there you'll be, right there beside me. So big, and strong, and broad…"
She trailed off, gasping when he hit a particularly sensitive spot, and clenched hard around him.
"We made a baby, Rowena," Sam grunts as his palms lay flat on the counter, giving himself leverage to fuck into her harder, forcing her to clap a hand over her mouth to muffle a scream. "Together. Through our magic. We did that."
She whimpered and gushed around his cock as his thrusts slowed slightly, but went deeper, angling further inside her.
"Our daughter," he breathed, knuckles skimming the side of her belly. "Is a miracle."
Rowena comes with a sharp shout of his name, need to be quiet be damned, and Sam is quick to follow, spilling inside her in a hot torrent. They clung to each other through the aftershocks until Sam felt he could stand properly; he wet a cloth, cleaning Rowena up, then helped her redress before pulling on his boxers.
A yawn split Rowena's lips, and Sam offered her his hand, smiling gently. "Ready for bed again?"
She nodded, twining their fingers together and resting her head against his bicep as they walked slowly back to their room. Once inside, Rowena stripped off the borrowed pajamas and climbed into the sheets stark naked, pressing her cheek to the pillow and waiting for Sam to join her. He flicked off the light after losing his boxers and curled around her, their skin touching everywhere possible, and relief bloomed in Rowena's chest.
"She's going to be okay," she whispers, and feels Sam kiss the round of her shoulder. "No matter what else- she is going to survive, Samuel. Do you understand?"
She can sense he's frowning, but when she guides his hand against her belly where there's just the hint of a spine pressing back out against her skin, she knows he understands. He kisses her pulse point, buries his nose just behind her ear, and exhales softly in answer.
"No- no, no no no no, Rowena."
Sam, bound to the chair. Shirt ripped open, anti-possession tattoo visible against his strong chest. Tears in his eyes as he looked at her with such pleading it felt as if her very heart were being torn from her chest.
"I know how much you've been through- I know what you've lost," he says, and damn her, she can feel the way her lip trembles. "And I realize how much you want your family back."
He doesn't, though. He can't, not when his child grows in her womb, and she so desperately wants to fix things for Fergus before she can even contemplate bringing another life into this world. Tears track down her cheeks as the knife in her hands starts to shake.
"But don't do this. Not like this," he continues. "This is not you. Not anymore."
Something inside her tears apart at his conviction, because he knows her. Has watched her change, work to become someone new, someone better.
"What happened to me, those were my choices. But Fergus…it wasn't fair," she says, tears still tracking down her cheeks. "It's not fair!"
With force, she whirls around to face Billie, to face Death incarnate, and explodes in purple light as power pulses from her palms. She's aware of Sam, somewhere behind her, but she's exploding with grief, with pain, with devastation. With terror for the new life within her. For fear that she'll have lost Samuel forever for this.
She collapses to the floor, her knees smacking into the hardwood, while Billie remains standing, unbothered by her attack.
"You were never going to kill him," she states simply, and Rowena lets out a sob of acceptance, because she knows Death is right. She could no more kill Sam than she could kill herself. "There was a time you would've, but not now. I can see that."
"I don't know what I'm doing," bursts out of Rowena in a sob of grief, of despair- of loss. She's never been able to hold onto the things that matter to her, and love is as terrifying a thing as anything ever could be. She worries she doesn't have the taste for it.
"Sometimes life is unfair. And sometimes we lose things. And sometimes we make mistakes. And some of these things can never be fixed, no matter how powerful you become," Billie tells her, a soft reprimand in her soothing voice. "Some things just are, and everyone has to live with that. But sometimes…sometimes, a new book is put on a shelf. A new story is set to be told, Rowena."
Unconsciously, Rowena's hand slid to cradle her unchanged belly. Behind her, Sam gave a soft gasp, and Billie's eyes flicked over the hunter, glazed with mild interest.
"Even your story's ending may change some day," she finishes, and Sam gives a sharp inhale at Death's words. She feels Sam move from behind her, shifting to where she still lay knelt, hand on her belly and head bowed.
"Rowena," Sam whispers, voice shaking, and she looked up at him through cat-slit eyes, damp with tears. "Are you…"
She nods even though he trails off, and Sam is lifting her upwards, cupping her face in his hands and brushing his thumbs over her tear tracked cheeks. Their foreheads sink together, noses brushing, and Rowena clutches at Sam with both hands.
"I'm so sorry," she whispers, no longer caring about Billie's presence as Sam's hands tangled in her long hair. "I'm so sorry, Sam, I didn't- I could never-"
"Hey, hey- shh, it's okay, I understand," he murmured, and kissed her mouth tenderly to cement the words. "I know. I know, Ro. We'll talk more later, okay?"
She nods, sniffling, and lets him pull her to a standing position just as Dean burst through the door, gun lifted and Jessica at his heels. Billie disappears with a meaningful "Hey Dean. See you again soon" and Jessica follows, leaving just the three of them in the trashed hotel room.
"Sammy…" Dean starts, and Sam shakes his head.
"I'm fine, Dean. We're fine," he says, and motions to the gun. "Put it away."
Dean glares, but finally relents, re-holstering the gun and gazing around the room. Rowena could feel the well of emotion bubbling up in her chest, threatening to release, but she couldn't, not with Dean present. So she sits and talks with the boys until finally they leave- only for her phone to chime with a message from Sam.
Come to my room. We'll talk.
He'd also sent an address and room number, which must mean he wasn't sharing with Dean, so she packs up her things and brings them all with her. By midnight she's standing outside the motel door, knuckles poised to knock, when the door opens before she can and Sam is pulling her into him and kicking the door shut.
The embrace is warm, tight, and exactly enough pressure to make Rowena feel like crying once more. She hadn't seen Sam in two months, one week, and fifteen hours. It had felt like a lifetime since she'd properly touched him.
"You're pregnant," he whispers into her hair, and she nods against his chest, arms looped tight around his waist. "How?"
She shakes her head. There would be time to answer questions later, to unravel the mysteries of her pregnancy. Right now, she just wanted his skin against hers, his mouth on her mouth, his hands in her hair.
"Later," she whispered, and began to undo the buttons of her pants. "Words later. For now…for now, we just feel."
Sam doesn't argue- instead, he pulls his shirt over his head, and then pulls her back into him, finding her mouth with his own. They don't talk until much, much later.
Sam leaves Rowena sleeping; she curls sleepily around his pillow, hair falling like flames around her shoulders, and love for her aches just below his breastbone.
In the kitchen, Dean and Cas are already awake, coffee brewing and bacon and eggs on the stove. His brother looks up at his steps, and nods in greeting, clearly still half-sleep, but Castiel lifts a hand in hello.
"Morning," Sam greets, and pours himself a mug of coffee. "I want to go over the warding on the bunker today. See if there's anything Rowena and I can do to strengthen it. That way we won't have to keep the bindings in place while she's in here- just when we go out."
Castiel nods, and Dean takes a bite of bacon before doing the same.
"Thought maybe I'd do some research into witchling births," his brother added, and Sam's brows furrowed in surprise. "Listen, no matter who her mother may be, kid's still my niece, Sammy. Gonna do whatever I gotta to protect her."
Something clenches, then loosens in Sam's chest.
"Yeah, uh," Sam clears his throat against the sudden emotion clogging it. "That sounds great, Dean."
"I will continue to track Lucifer's known movements," Castiel nods. "As I am safest outside the bunker at the moment."
Both Dean and Sam frowned, but eventually nodded in acceptance. Dean clapped a hand on the angel's shoulder.
"Be careful Cas, okay? Come home safe."
Castiel nodded, something softer in the corners of his mouth. "Try to be gentle with Rowena, Dean."
Dean scoffed, shoving at Cas gently as he rolled his eyes. "Red's tough. She'll be fine."
"I'll call when I have news," are the angel's parting words, and then he's disappearing down the hall to the garage. Sam and Dean stand in the kitchen, silence looming, and then Dean clears his throat.
"How's it feel?" he asks, and Sam cocks his head in question. "To know you're gonna be a dad?"
Sam can't help the involuntary smile his lips curled into, joy flickering in his chest. Dean's own incandescent smile alights at the sight of Sam's.
"It's- well, terrifying, on one hand," Sam says, shrugging, but he's still smiling when he meets Dean's gaze. "But on the other…she's already my favorite thing in the world, Dean, and I haven't even met her yet."
Dean squeezes Sam's shoulder, then taps his cheek gently with a palm.
"Always knew you'd be a sucker," he teases, but it's gentle, so infinitely gentle, not like their usual ribbing. Sam knows, then, that despite whatever uncertainty Dean may feel about Rowena, none of it extended to their daughter, and he'd give his life for her if need be.
"C'mon. Lore's not gonna read itself," Sam says, steering them back to safer ground, and Dean fills a plate with scrambled eggs and bacon and pours a literal flagon of coffee to bring with him to the library. Sam rolls his eyes, amused, and brings his own smaller cup of coffee and a banana with him as they each settle in chairs on opposite sides of the table, tomes spread out before them.
"Good morning boys."
Neither is aware of how much time had passed exactly, so the soft, accented voice breaking the silence pulls them each from their thoughts. Rowena stood in the doorway of the library, wrapped in a soft-looking floral dress and sweater combination, hair in a messy pile atop her head and face still free of any makeup. Sam was standing before he even realized, moving to her side, and the smile she flashed up at him was so warm it just about took him out at the kneecaps.
"I was just about to make some tea," she said, welcoming his gentle touch to her belly, and the luxury of simply being able to touch her so easily makes his heart sing. "Would either of you boys like some?"
"Not a tea guy," Dean confesses, apologetic, and Rowena lifts an eyebrow.
"Ah, but you haven't had my tea," she informs him, and he chuckles. "I'll make three anyway. Who knows- maybe I'll change your mind."
She winks over her shoulder before heading back to the kitchen, and Sam watches her go, eyes on the sway of her hips, and flinches when Dean throws a pen at him.
"Hey!" he protests, and Dean just shakes his head.
"Lovesick," he says, mock disgust in his voice, and Sam rolls his eyes. "Get back to reading, nerd."
Sam just smiles as he returns to his book, affection warm in his chest, and feels something a lot like hope well in his chest.
