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The child is growing in her stomach day by day. She reads the books that tell her when it’s the size of a grape, when it’s a grapefruit. Reads the Bible again, as if it will give her any solace.
“The Nephilim were on the earth in those days—and also afterward—when the sons of God went into the daughters of humans, who bore children to them. Those were the heroes that were of old, warriors of renown.”
The world doesn’t need more heroes right now. Maybe a new Flood will come next, too.
She makes her peace with dying. She’s done enough, now. The one thing that worries her is leaving Dean with the child. With little John—Jack, until he knows who he’s named after.
Dean is concerning—begged her to get an abortion when he first learned. As if that was an option, as if that could ever be on the table. Has backed off now, but she sees how he looks at her, at her stomach, when he thinks her back is turned.
He brings her breakfast every morning—eggs, then toast with margarine when her stomach turns.
He asks her what she ate last time, for Andrew and Mary. His voice is quiet. The fact that he has to ask, that he doesn’t know. John hadn’t let them visit—those 6 years had felt like an entirely different world. Carrying a Nephilim feels different, although it could also be her age. She wonders what so many deaths, what the Cage did to her eggs, how long she’ll still be fertile (if she survives this).
She tries to raise the question with Dean.
“If I don’t make it—”
He slams his mug down. Decaf, in solidarity. “You’re going to be fine.”
“Ok, but if I’m not—”
“I don’t want to hear it.”
So that’s that.
She's concerned about staying in the Bunker. At first it seemed to perhaps be the safest place to stay, but Lucifer knows their location. She doesn’t want an intrusion, doesn’t want to be found. Wakes up sweating from a nightmare of him cutting the child out of her stomach with a stanley knife before its time, screams and blood and fear.
They start frequenting motels again. Dean is angry that she won’t stay in a location for long enough to have routine checkups, with the same doctor. But there’s no OBGYN who can help her and they don’t have an angel on hand anymore to mindwipe every doctor after they see what’s inside her. Dean sees sense, eventually. She takes her vitamins and that’s all she can do. There’s no one coming to save her.
One morning in a particularly claustrophobic motel she pulls on her running shorts (they don’t fit—switches to sweatpants) and gets ready to head out on a jog. You’re allowed to do this, now. It’s nothing like when she was younger, afraid to even lift her arms above her head, subject to a scolding from her husband (may he rest in peace) if even her chores got too vigorous. As if he was going to help do them instead.
These days women are running marathons and deadlifting while visibly pregnant. Turns out it’s been fine this whole time.
So she’s excited at the prospect of getting out and stretching her legs, until Dean looks up in concern.
“What are you doing, Sam?”
“Going for a jog. It’s totally safe, and I won’t go too far.”
Dean stares at her. “Totally safe? You have no idea whether or not it’s safe. We haven’t even been able to see a doctor! Who knows if a freaky devil baby is anything like What to Expect When You’re Expecting! We’re not taking any chances, and that’s final.”
Something hurt and angry rears up in Sam.
“You’re not my husband and you’re not my father. You don’t get a say here on what I do.”
“Goddammit, Sam, we’re in this together. You have to listen to what I say if I’m going to protect you.”
Sam deflates. Sits down on the opposite side of the table from Dean.
“I’m sorry, Dean, really. It’s the stress and the hormones—I should listen to you, especially now.”
Dean nods, worried.
She doesn’t ask until the next day, then goes for a walk instead.
She’s stopped praying. Hasn’t explained to Dean that she was still even bothering with it at all, certainly not with her growing suspicion that all of her prayers have been transferred on the Heavenly switchboard to Lucifer instead. Her whole life, probably.
She’s dizzy thinking about it.
She shakes her head. No helping it now.