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Rowena wakes early for once, listening to Sam breathing deeply next to her, and stares at the ceiling of their darkened bedroom.
She had a complex relationship with Mother’s Day. It hadn’t existed when she’d become a mother, commercialized only in the twentieth century, and she hadn’t been the kind of mother that was meant to be celebrated anyway. Especially now, when Fergus had been dead for years.
“You’re thinking too hard,” she startles at Sam’s quiet, sleepy voice, and then he pulls her into him, wrapping her up in his arms and pressing a kiss to the side of her head.
Rowena hums softly, letting him hold her, and nuzzles her nose against the curve of Sam’s jaw.
“What are you thinking about?” he asks, stroking his knuckles tenderly down the curve of her belly- it had popped a few weeks ago, and Sam was utterly obsessed with it. Within her, their daughter squirms, a foot kicking out against the gentle pressure of Sam’s hand, and she feels his grin against her skin.
“Do you think he would have understood?” she asks, and Sam pulls back slightly, frowning as he tenderly tucked a few strands of hair back behind her ear. “Do you think he would have understood why it’s different this time?”
Realization dawns in Sam’s expression, and his palm settles against her cheek. Rowena blinks.
“I think he would,” he answers quietly. “Maybe it would have been hard for him, to see you so happy. I know your relationship was complex, and far from easy. But Crowley loved you, Rowena, in his own way. And I think he’d be glad for you.”
“For us,” she whispers, and covers his hand with her own on her belly. “I couldn’t do this with anyone but you, Samuel. Truly.”
The kiss they share is warm and deep and Rowena sinks into it- twines her fingers in Sam’s hair and keeps him close until they’re both panting for breath and sharing air as desperation seeps between them. Sam’s fingers curl around her hip, stroking against her bump, and Rowena swallows a moan.
“Happy Mother’s Day,” Sam whispers into her skin before he pulls her atop him, the warm weight of her settling over his hips. Rowena glows, incandescent in the soft morning light.
_
“Gentle, Ains. We don’t want to spill,” she hears Sam’s voice through the cracked open bedroom door, and smiles to herself. She’s sat up against the pillows to nurse Blair, the infant having woken up whining hungrily a little while ago, and she can hear Sam and their eldest puttering around outside the bedroom door.
The door finally creaks open fully and Ainsley walks in, hands clasped tightly around what looks like a mug of tea. Sam is just behind her, carrying a breakfast tray complete with a single orchid in a small vase, and warmth spills in Rowena’s chest, threatening to overflow.
“Mommy!” Ainsley says gleefully, seeing her awake. “We made pancakes!”
“I see that, my dove,” Rowena says, unable to stop smiling as Sam set the tray down at the end of the bed before rescuing the mug of tea from Ainsley’s hands to set on the bedside table before he helped her clamber up onto the bed and shuffle closer to her mother. Ainsley snuggles in close, gingerly patting Blair’s little hand where it lay nestled against the curve of Rowena’s breast while she ate.
“Daddy said we can go to the park,” Ainsley tells her, excitement in her voice, and Rowena chuckles softly, resting her head against her daughter’s as Ainsley snuggles impossibly closer.
“Figured we could get some energy out,” Sam tells Rowena, fingers squeezing her knee through the covers softly as she lifts her gaze to look at her lover. “And Dean insisted on cooking dinner tonight, so he and Cas are coming over later with Claire.”
Rowena’s smile grows, and she lifts her free hand towards Sam- he curls their fingers together, squeezing.
“I feel so spoiled,” she says, and Sam’s grin widens.
“Good.”
_
Rowena’s spent most of the morning with her head in the toilet- the joys of morning sickness for the third time- and only makes her way downstairs once she feels like she won’t heave at the sight of food.
“Mama!” Blair reaches for her the moment she sees her, and Rowena softens- scoops the little girl up and snuggles her close. Ainsley is dozing against Sam’s chest, still overcoming a late spring cold, and her lover smiles at her tenderly from across the room.
“Hey, babe. Happy Mother’s Day,” he says, and Rowena blows him a kiss, still cradling Blair against her. “Hope you’re okay with it being lowkey this year. I figured breakfast in bed was a no-go.”
Rowena shakes her head, sinking down into the armchair in the living room, settling Blair on her lap.
“I’m still a bit queasy, truth be told,” she confesses, and Sam frowns, but she shakes her head in reassurance. “You know the drill. It’ll go away in a few weeks.”
“You still up for a late lunch? I can call Jody and cancel if not,” Sam says, and affection rolls through her even as she shakes her head.
“I’ll be fine, Samuel. It will be nice to see all the girls,” she says, and Sam does grin at that. “How is Ainsley?”
“Still a little feverish, but she ate a little this morning and I got her to drink a whole glass of juice,” he replies, and Rowena can’t help but frown, fretting. “She’s got a dose of Tylenol in, though, and she doesn’t feel warm anymore.”
Sam softens at the worry still furrowing her brow.
“She’s fine, Ro. Really. She just caught a bug at school,” he reminds her, gently, and Rowena takes a breath, nodding. She watches their daughter sleep against Sam, Blair dozing in her own arms, and lets the warmth of her little body tug her towards sleep herself.
_
They’re in the garden, enjoying the sunshine. The girls are playing an intricate game in the grass, and Rowena watches fondly as she sips at her tea. Sam is prepping dinner, marinating chicken and chopping vegetables, and it’s the perfect Sunday.
“Hello, Mother.”
Rowena blinks up at her son’s voice. It had been a few weeks since his return from the Empty, and they’d only seen each other a handful of times since. He had not taken learning about his new half-sisters well, and it had strained their already-tenuous relationship.
“Fergus,” she greets, and gestures towards one of the free chairs for him to sit. He does, unbuttoning his suit jacket, and his gaze drifts to the little girls running around the yard. They haven’t noticed him yet, so consumed with their game, and Rowena’s chest aches a little. “I wasn’t expecting you.”
“Our last meeting went rather…poorly,” he agrees, and Rowena snorts at the understatement.
“I believe calling me a Winchester breeding bitch rather soured the encounter,” she replies, and frowns when Crowley winces at her words.
“I…do apologize,” Crowley starts slowly, and Rowena’s eyebrows furrow further. “I’ve not handled learning about- about the girls well. And I’ve perhaps been a bit…”
He trails off, and Rowena tips her head at him, curiously. Her son shrugs, gives a harsh laugh, and then finishes his sentence. “Well, I suppose I’ve been rather jealous.”
Rowena’s eyes widen a little at his confession, but she can’t say she’s entirely surprised. Crowley pushes on.
“They’re getting a childhood I would have killed for,” he says, and Rowena swallows. “They have a mother that loves them easily. A father that adores them. An entire family that would never let anyone lay a finger on any of their heads. And it’s hard for me to reconcile them being allowed that when I…when I wasn’t.”
“Fergus…” Rowena tries to start, but he shakes his head. He looks up at her, and the half-smile he sends her is genuine.
“I spent a lot of my life being angry with you,” he says, and Rowena’s gaze drops to her knotted fingers. “And perhaps I always will be, a little bit. But…those girls are innocent. And, if you’ll allow- I would like to get to know them. My sisters.”
Rowena blinks, looking back at him, but his expression is nothing but sincere.
“Really?” she croaks out, and Crowley nods- but then Ainsley is tugging on Rowena’s sleeve, suddenly by her side.
“Mama, who is that?” she asks, looking at Crowley curiously, and Blair and Fiona come to join Ainsley in staring at him. Rowena swallows, preparing to answer, when Crowley beats her to it.
“Well, I’m your older brother,” he tells her, and Ainsley’s eyes go wide in disbelief. Then she looks skeptical.
“Mama did not tell us we had a brother,” she says, and folds her arms to look at him sassily. “And my mama tells me everything.”
Rowena chuckles affectionately, and kisses the side of Ainsley’s head.
“It’s true, my loves,” she says, and three sets of dark eyes whirl in her direction. “Before you were born, a long time ago, I did have another baby. This is your brother. Fergus.”
Ainsley looks back at Crowley, head tipped as she inspected him.
“You are not in play clothes,” she tells him, and Crowley’s brow furrows as he looks down at his three piece suit. “You’re gonna get dirty if you play with us.”
Crowley chuckles.
“I don’t think a bit of grass will hurt me, love,” he says, and Ainsley’s eyes narrow before she nods.
“Okay. Do you want to learn the rules?” she asks, and Crowley nods- gets out of his chair, and follows the three girls back to the grass while Ainsley chatters happily, explaining the rules of the game. The center of Rowena’s chest burns, watching, and she’s staring at her children so intently she doesn’t hear Sam join her until he kisses the top of her head, making her jump.
“Everything okay?” he asks, frowning, and Rowena nods, smiling softly.
“Everything is perfect, Samuel.”
_
“Happy Mother’s Day, my love.”
Rowena wakes to Sam’s tender kiss against the back of her neck, humming sleepily as she tugged his arm tighter around her body.
“Ainsley specifically instructed me to keep you in this bed until eight thirty, so she and the girls can make you breakfast,” he murmurs, nuzzling against the shell of her ear with his nose. “Apparently Dean’s coming over to help them make French toast, and I’m sure Crowley’s coming as well to ‘oversee’.”
Rowena snorts, twining their fingers together. On her finger glittered the ring Sam had finally convinced her to wear only weeks prior, fit perfectly to her left ring finger and promising a wedding come fall.
“Well, if Dean’s there at least it will be edible,” she replies, squirming and laughing when Sam pinched her side. “Ainsley has absolutely inherited my inability to cook, Samuel. I adore her beyond measure, but even her toast is inedible.”
Sam buries his laugh in her hair, kissing up the length of her neck.
“How a seventeen year old burns boiling water, I’ll never know,” he replies, and Rowena twists in his arms to cup his face tenderly. He looked older- lines by his eyes and a few strands of silver shot through the dark of his hair, but Sam still looked at her the same way he always had. Warm and affectionate and so loving it could suffocate her.
It had been two decades since she’d agree to try a real relationship with him. Twenty years of living and loving and growing together- of building a perfect little family together that Rowena couldn’t imagine her life without. Nearly eighteen years since Ainsley had made her a mother again; twelve since they’d welcomed Fiona and known their family unit was complete.
Looking back, Rowena couldn’t imagine her life any different. Once upon a time, she’d viewed love as weakness- thought she was better off alone and miserable. But allowing herself to fall for Sam, creating a family with him despite her initial reservations, terrified that she’d be no good at it- it was the greatest journey she ever could have experienced.
“Thank you,” she whispers, and Sam’s brows furrow, looking at her curiously. “For making this holiday mean so much to me. For giving me those girls downstairs absolutely destroying our kitchen. For loving me so much better than I could ever deserve.”
Sam softened; their kiss is tender, and Rowena feels so cherished when they part, Sam’s arms tight around her.
“I’d do it all again in a heartbeat,” he tells her, and Rowena’s heart trips in her chest. “Come on. I think we’ve got enough time to fool around in the shower before we’re expected downstairs.”
Rowena laughs, letting him tug her from the warm sheets, and twines herself around him as the bathroom door snaps shut, locking behind them.