Title: Nothing and Everything

Chapter 5

~~~~~~~~~~

“You should go take a bath.”

The way Sam said the words sent a little shiver of anticipation along Gwen’s spine.

“Are you saying I stink, Sam?” Gwen smiled and took off her jacket, hanging it from a hook just inside the door.

He returned the smile, hanging up his own jacket. “No, just…take a bath. Read awhile. Relax.”

“Okay.” She grabbed a book, drew a hot bath with some of the bubble bath Jo hoarded, and did as Sam suggested. After an hour, Gwen emerged from the bathroom to find the living room dark save the light of a few candles and soft music playing. “Sam?” She tightened the sash on her robe and moved towards the table.

“Dinner is…ready.” He brought two plates from the kitchen, setting them on the table.

She approached, looked the table over. He’d put that tablecloth Ellen had brought over on the table. “Mmm. Romantic candlelit dinner.” Gwen quirked a brow. “I like.”

“We haven’t done this in awhile and once the baby is home, I doubt we’ll have any more opportunity than Dean and Jo.”

His idea of a romantic evening didn’t end with dinner and drinks. He’d gone all out, dancing her around the living room and back into their bedroom, playfulness twining with sensual purpose. He was gentle and teasing, yet rough at the same time, the next couple hours passing quickly.

A pleased groan left her and she stretched, feet pushing the covers further down the mattress. “As much as I appreciate these romantic gestures…. I get the feeling there’s more to this than relaxing before Dean and Jo bring the baby home.”

Sam gave her a long kiss, then slid his hand along her back. “Roll over.” Once she had, he brushed her hair to one side. His lips touched the nape of her neck, tongue swirling for just a moment. “Close your eyes.”

She heard the click of a lid and felt a line of warm liquid along her spine. Sam began to massage her neck, shoulders, and back, the action as intuitive as always. He used the right amount of pressure to make her feel like she was melting into a puddle of goo. She slid quickly down into a state of drowsiness, smiling when she felt Sam trail kisses along her spine.

“So….” The flat of his hand swept up her back a final time and he settled beside her. “Another nightmare?” He traced an imaginary pattern of swirls along her arm and shoulder.

Gwen sighed, opening her eyes. “I should have known Jo would tell you. While I was out running, right?”

“She’s worried. I am too.” He propped his head on a hand. “Tell me about them.”

“Sam….” She sat up, reaching for the sheet and dragging it against her. “What good is talking about them?”

He sat as well, scooting closer, curving a hand about her neck, thumb caressing her skin. “It could make them less painful.”

“Every hunter has nightmares.” It was an excuse and they both knew it.

“Sure, but yours are getting worse.”

“You never tell me your nightmares,” she protested.

“Why are you so scared of those dreams?”

She looked at him, uncertain if she should give in and share the dreams of not. He wanted to know, concern in his eyes. “Because in the worst of them I kill you. I kill you and bathe my hands in your blood.”

His brows rose. “I can see how that would be disturbing.”

“Don’t patronize me.”

“I’m not.”

“They’re not only disturbing, Sam. Disturbing I can handle. I’ve handled it for years. What I’m having trouble with is how realistic they are. I’m in a house and at first I’m Mia. I hear a baby crying, smell herbs and smoke, like an incense, and I see Aaron on the floor, his shirt open. He’s trying to move and he can’t. I feel Mia’s anticipation and pleasure as she straddles him and sinks the knife in his stomach. The blood is hot, his screams….” She licked her lips and looked away. “Halfway up his stomach, he becomes you and I’m me. I know it’s you because of the scars and tattoo.” Reaching out, she touched them, fingers lingering on the scar of that wound she’d stitched up many months earlier. “I know it’s you because you ask me why. You say my name and I feel all those things Mia felt. Is insanity hereditary, because she was bat-shit, over the moon crazy.”

He cupped her face with both hands. “You’re not insane. First off, Mia was a witch, from a family of witches. Likely she’d been dabbling since before she could even read. She was twisted and no matter how great the physical resemblance between you, you aren’t her. It’s a perfectly natural thing that a child can have such a strong resemblance to one parent. You know that.”

“But --”

“No.” He shook his head. “If anything is wrong, I think it’s more like a touch of PTSD or nightmare disorder than insanity.”

She raised her hands, grasping his forearms, feeling the cording of muscle beneath the skin. “What if when Molek possessed her, he displaced her, shoved her out, and she got in me?”

“You’re protected. The tattoo --”

“Is against demonic possession, Sam, not spirit. What if she’s inside and when I’m asleep, she’s trying to gain control?”

“You’ve been reading too many of those novels Jo pretends she can’t stand and hides under the cushions whenever one of us walks in the room.”

“It’s a possibility. We both know things like that are reality, not fiction.”

“Cas talked to you a few days after we got back. Did he say anything that’d make you believe that could be true?”

“He asked if I had any aftereffects, seemed like he was expecting something mental or emotional, then declared me physically sound.”

“Have you tried calling him down here?”

Gwen looked down at the bed. “No. I’m not comfortable doing that.” She was hesitant to get into the same mindset of always calling on Castiel that Sam and Dean had fallen into and had struggled hard to release themselves from.

“Okay. I can understand that.”

“What if the dreams are prophetic? What if --”

“What if they’re not?” Releasing her, he adjusted the covers. “I mean, you should be there for the aftermath of some of Dean’s nightmares. He’s had some pretty real ones and so have I.”

“Lasting weeks and getting worse?”

He was quiet a moment and then his head dipped in a slow nod. “I have. For awhile, I had these dreams that I lost my soul again, only it was Lucifer that took it. He snatched it as the cage closed and tossed my body back, knowing full well what I’d be like without my soul. He did that because it’d hurt me to know what my soulless body would do, how I’d behave and he taunted me about it. It was an elaborate dream and each one added something new and then…. I made peace with what had happened. I couldn’t change what I did without my soul, but I could move on from it.”

“How do I move on? How do I get beyond this?”

“Your dad died in a terrible way, Gwen, and your mom was an evil witch. That’s a lot to take in at one time. You have to work through it and it’s going to take time. You’re not her and you’re not him.” He laid down, sliding an arm beneath his head on the pillow. “And if it turns out there’s more to it, we’ll deal with it. Gwen, don’t be afraid to talk to me. We’ve always been able to talk, even from the beginning. I don’t want what’s between us to change that. You should be able to tell me these things.”

“It scares me,” she admitted.

Curving his hand about her forearm, he gave a light tug. “Come here.”

She went, lying beside him, her body pressed to his and her head on his chest. “I thought that finding out something about them would be the end, but there isn’t an end is there? I’m always going to have more questions.”

“Maybe.” His hand stroked her back with soft touches that tickles a little. “Do you want to start looking into him?”

“I think I should. I’m kicking myself now for burning that flash drive.”

“I questioned the move at the time.”

Gwen closed her eyes. “It’s going to be the same thing we ran into with Mia, Sam. Journal entries that are cryptic and, speaking of cryptic….” Reopening her eyes, she turned onto her stomach and raised up onto her elbows. “Abigael showed up in the bathroom at the hospital. Winked in like the rest of the angels and winked back out.”

“What’d she have to say?” His fingers didn’t stay still, sliding over her skin like he wasn’t aware he was doing it, up and down her arm, over her shoulder, across her chest. He was trying to keep this light, distract her a little, and she appreciated that effort.

“That she took care of the Trickster for us. That she left breadcrumbs for me to find the information on Aaron. Her big clue for me is that all that ‘glitters isn’t gold’, said it’s right in front of me. How’s that for cryptic?”

“That’s all she said?”

“Yeah.”

“Huh. That could mean anything.”

“Yes and she knew she was being cryptic, too. Acted like she couldn’t really talk, like maybe someone was listening.”

“Maybe someone was.” Sam slid his hand down her chest, fingers drawing circles now on the curve of her breasts. “So, agenda for tomorrow morning. Pack, make sure the baby’s room is ready, start combing the journals for solid info on Aaron. Sound good?”

“It does actually.”

“Good.” He rolled her onto her back as he shifted position half over her. “Now enough talk and shop talk. I’ve got more plans for you.” His head lowered, lips nibbling a line just beneath her jaw to her ear. He whispered those things he’d planned, his hands growing bolder as he spoke, and by the time he was done describing, Gwen didn’t hesitate to surrender to the moment.

She woke hours later, refreshed and without the tension that had been steady in her back and shoulders. Sam’s magic hands had done wonders -- in more ways than one.

Gwen smiled. She’d almost forgotten what waking well-rested felt like. It was light out, the sun peeking through a crack in the curtains. Rolling over, she stretched. Sam wasn’t in bed with her, the sheets on his side cool to the touch. He’d been awake awhile.

With a yawn, she looked at the clock. It was right at nine. She’d slept for over ten hours. No wonder Sam wasn’t there with her. He’d probably been up at seven. Sitting up, she rubbed a hand over her face and through her hair, grimacing at the tangled mess she found. “Sam?” Her voice was husky and she cleared her throat before calling out again.

He pushed open the door the rest of the way, a mug in hand. He was mostly dressed, in jeans and t-shirt, but his feet were bare and he hadn’t yet put on a button-down shirt. His hair was damp, falling over his eyes, and he pushed it back with his free hand. “Hey. How are you feeling?”

“Better. I slept. If I dreamed I don’t remember them.”

“Good. Here.” Coming to the bed, he handed her the mug. “Dean just called. They’re releasing Jo and the baby in about an hour. He said already today he’s had to deal with Jo sobbing out of control because she found out she shouldn’t have coffee. Something about nursing and the baby.”

“Yeah, the caffeine. It’s not good for….” She blinked a few times, mind feeling a little fuzzy. “Jack?”

“Jack,” he confirmed.

She smiled, set the coffee on the nightstand and pushed the covers aside. “Well, if they’re going to be back soon, I should shower and get dressed.”

“I already packed your car.”

“You got everything?”

“I think so. Your laptop, the files you’ve been working on, our clothes…. Yeah.” He opened the curtains, letting the sunlight in and Gwen winced at the brightness. “The crib is in place and I put everything out according to the diagram Ellen gave us. I think we’re good.”

“Off to Bobby’s we go. Give me about twenty minutes.”

She was ready in fifteen, wondering if she could convince Ellen to cook her breakfast when they got there.

~~~~~~~~~~

Motherhood sucked.

In general, that was.

Jo sat in the wheelchair the staff and Dean had insisted she ride in out to the car and admitted to herself that she was sulking just a little because she wasn’t getting her way on more than one thing.

She’d wanted a nice gigantic cup of coffee, a vat maybe, this morning and had been told she shouldn’t for awhile until the baby settled in at home and she and Dean could gauge if Jack was sensitive to it or not. He might have a sensitivity and if she drank it while breastfeeding, he might not sleep well. Her kid and Dean’s? She snorted. He should have caffeine and beer and a touch of whiskey for blood.

Then there was the fact that the jeans she’d wanted to wear home were still a little too snug through the hips and waist. Fastening them hadn’t been an option. She’d tried. She’d even laid down on the bed, but that hadn’t helped. She was stuck wearing the maternity jeans. Still.

Not for long, she told herself. No way was she going to spend any more time than she had to in maternity clothes. Time to get back on the sensible eating plan and practice her field skills. Slowly, of course, like it was recommended for new mothers. She’d ease back into it. Not like she planned to dig a grave sized hole or anything…. Not this week anyway.

Finally, there was the matter of breastfeeding. It had seemed like such a good idea when she and Dean had been planning, but no…. Her body didn’t seem to want to make any milk for the baby. Nothing, nada, zip, zilch. The nurses in the ward were full of advice for her, the biggest being to be patient about her milk coming in. They said it would, that this was perfectly normal and she should relax. One nurse suggested drinking a little non-caffeinated root beer to help, another suggested plain beer, and a third said those were all old wives’ tales and to ignore them.

Jo thought a little credence to tales was sometimes a good idea, especially knowing the sort of things she knew. She settled on root beer as her first try, though she was dying for a beer after months without. Her tolerance had gotten so low that she suspected Dean could get her drunk with two shots of whiskey -- and would the first chance he got.

She watched him put the baby carrier in the Impala, looking for all the world like he’d practiced with it the night before. She wouldn’t put it past him. She could imagine him standing out at the Impala with her mom standing over him, making him do drills until he could get the carrier in the car in under a minute. When the door was closed, she handed him the balloons and other presents on her lap, and stood, taking her own sweet time getting into the car. She breathed in the familiar scent of the Impala and sighed.

One of the nurses, she couldn’t remember who it was now, had said the first two weeks were brutal on new parents but after that they’d be fine. It’d be smooth sailing.

Glancing at the back of the car, she saw that Dean was on his phone. Talking to Sam maybe? Jo checked Jack, made sure he was still breathing and settled back in the seat, closing her eyes. She sighed again. She was exhausted and felt more than a little ‘blah’, like the entire day so far had been anticlimactic. The birth was over, so now what? When they got back, she was going to take a shower and nap, preferably in that order.

Jo nodded off before Dean had even gotten in the car.

~~~~~~~~~

At 10:50 AM, Sam’s phone rang. He picked it up and glanced at it. It was Dean.

“Yeah?”

“We’re leaving the hospital,” Dean said, his voice oddly strained.

“Good. That’s great. Are you whispering?”

“Sshhh! Not so loud,” he hissed. “It’ll be a miracle if starting my baby doesn’t wake my baby.”

“Jack’s asleep?”

“So far.”

“How’s Jo?”

“Tired, cranky, moody, emotional…. Take your pick any given minute. Doc said she’ll be that way for a few days, maybe longer. Are you still at the house?”

“No. We’re at Bobby’s.”

“Chicken. I told you, take Gwen to Vegas.”

“Bond with your baby, Dean. I gotta go.”

“Fine. Let’s see if I can do this without waking the baby.”

Ellen approached the table and set two plates piled high with food before Sam and Gwen. When they’d arrived, Gwen had convinced Ellen they’d had no food in the house and were starving to death. Either Ellen had really bought it, or she’d wanted to cook and used Gwen’s story as an excuse. Likely the latter. When she was at Bobby’s, she took over the kitchen and no one argued with her on it, least of all Bobby. “Here you go.” She gestured to Sam’s phone. “Don’t cave, Sam. You stay right here. Dean can handle this without you.” Her glance slid to Gwen. “And don’t you head out the second my daughter calls you, either. She’ll con you back to the house if she can.”

“I wouldn’t,” Gwen began then trailed off and looked down at her plate with a chagrined stare. “Okay maybe I would.”

“For the next couple days, they’re gonna be tired, scared, and pleading for all of us to come in and help them, but they’ll be fine. It’s all natural. The feelings, all of it. They need to get their parent legs under them. Give them a week to get comfortable and another one to settle in to a routine.” She turned back to the stove. “Then you can go back home.”

He ate slowly, watching Ellen putter around the kitchen. She’d whipped Bobby’s kitchen into shape over the past months and looked to be reorganizing a cabinet at present. “Hey Ellen?”

“Yeah?” She swiveled in her crouched position, a pan in one hand and lid in the other.

“Bobby know you’re rearranging his kitchen?”

Her grin was thoroughly amused and rather cheeky. “He will when he goes to cook something.”

Sam laughed. “He’s gonna be pissed.”

Ellen put the lid and pan in the cabinet, then glanced over her shoulder at him. “He won’t be pissed. Never been before.”

Interesting. He liked things the way he’d had them for years, yet let Ellen move things the way she wanted them? Sam wondered about that. Was Bobby developing feelings for Ellen? Or did he just not care if the kitchen was rearranged?

She got to her feet and closed the cabinet door. “Gwen, would you finish up the dishes for me?” Ellen came to the table. “Alright, Sam, let’s do this computer thing while I’m still halfway motivated.”

He almost laughed at Ellen’s tone. She’d discovered a hearty dislike for the job she’d taken on, despite being good at it. “I’ll take care of the passwords. Why don’t you show me this message board you set up?” He was reluctant to tell her she should have signed up for Twitter and Facebook and a few other sites since she was so proud of herself for coming up with the message board idea. He’d wait awhile before suggesting that.

When she’d opened the page and signed in, he studied it. It was simple and not flashy. Someone stumbling upon it wouldn’t think it anything strange, maybe even something for a role play group. The rules were at the top. Below it was a section for introductions and hints and nibbles of cases. At the bottom of the forum was a passworded section that was invitation only. He presumed that was where she’d post the cases up for grabs.

“You’re already up and running.”

“It was easier than I thought. Point and click for the most part.”

“You’ve also got people already.” Seventeen members and he clicked on the list, scrolling through it.

“I sent out the initial round of email invites. Once these get settled in, I’ll send out the next round and I’ll bet we’ll get more members as word spreads. Sophie and Mick signed up this morning and others like Mel and Shawn. The young set. Doubt we’ll get too many my age and up, though there is one spitfire calls herself ‘Calamity Granny’. I suspect she really is a granny by the way she writes. I’ve been trying to figure out if I know her, but I don’t think I do. Says her name is ‘Ronnie’.”

“I don’t know her unless it’s an alias.”

“No, she says it’s her real name. Bobby wonders if it might be Veronica Bennet coming out of retirement or something. He used to run into her whenever he’d work a cursed object way back when he first started hunting. She gave him a few pointers once. Cursed objects were sort of her specialty. Her and her husband. Bobby says he hasn’t seen hide nor hair of the gal in years, thought maybe one of the objects got her.”

“Why don’t you ask her?”

“I did. No reply.”

“Maybe she’s trying to figure out if she knows you.”

“Could be. Anyway, whatever you and Dean said to Mick got him all fired up. He’s practically begging me to give him one of the Campbell unsolvables, so if you want to pick one out for him out of the lower drawer of the little filing cabinet in the corner you’d be doing me a favor.”

“You’ve got a filing cabinet here now?”

One brow shrugged. “I’ve got several cabinets. Whipping this place into shape. Two drawer one for the ones they’d labeled unsolvable in the past century and a couple four drawers for everything else. Interesting and weird stuff. Give him a real brain teaser, Sam. I put those in the very back.”

“Like Mick, do you?”

There was a hint of a smile on her lips. “You and Dean should look at those files. Not sayin’ you’d find something to work, but I think you’d realize it’s not just vamps, demons, and the common monster running around out there. There’s things you haven’t seen yet and things that probably went into hibernation that’ll be coming out of it soon. Strange world we live in.”

“You think we don’t know that, Ellen? We killed two Gorgons months back. Gorgons aren’t strange?”

“Just sayin’. Broaden your horizons.”

A snort of laughter left him as he looked through the folders in the drawer. “I think we do that with every job. There seem to be a million classifications of every monster out there.”

“Apparently, there’s a million more if the info I’ve been putting in that database is right.”

He pondered that as he glanced through folders. Had they become complacent? Arrogant even in what they knew? They did seem to deal with the same sort of things over and over.

Yes, he decided. They’d fallen into a rut. They should learn from the archives, not just hand them over to Ellen and Bobby to catalogue. For months it had really been Ellen and Bobby working on them. Coming in a day here and there didn’t count as learning anything. They needed to learn again, get back to that basic thing.

~~~~~~~~~~

Dean carefully set the baby carrier on the table. He and Jo both let out a relieved sigh. The drive home had been interesting. Jo had slept the first few minutes, then made him stop twice so she could make sure Jack was still breathing. “Home at last,” he whispered. Any louder and he was afraid he’d wake the baby.

“At last is right,” Jo replied. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you drive under the speed limit before.” She yawned. “I need a nap and a shower.”

“Go on up. I’ll keep an eye on him.”

“Okay.” However, she seemed reluctant to move, a hand touching the carrier, then the blanket. Her chin quivered before she wet her lips and looked up at him. “Dean, I’m scared. I mean, we got him home okay, but what now?”

He put his arms around her, tugging her close. It was nice to be able to do that again without her belly in the way. “I know and I’m right there with you. We can handle this though, right? We’re hunters. We kill monsters. We’ll be fine with a baby.” Tipping her chin up with a finger, he placed a quick kiss on her lips. “Go shower and sleep awhile. I’ll do the checklist if he wakes before you do.”

She nodded and went upstairs.

Dean sat in a chair, watching his son sleep. Fragile, small. He thought he could see Jo in his features if he stared long enough, so he stared, trying to see how the two of them had blended together in Jack.

Half an hour later, Dean still hadn’t heard the shower running and glanced at the ceiling. He stood and lifted the carrier. “Let’s go check on mommy,” he told the still sleeping infant.

He found Jo on the bed, sprawled across it still dressed. She hadn’t even removed her shoes. Dean covered her with a blanket, eyed Jack, and sighed. “What do we do now?”

Back downstairs, he carefully took Jack from the carrier and held him, enjoying the moment of just him and his newborn son. He suspected there’d be few peaceful moments like this in the future.

~~~~~~~~~~

This was a special day. Abigael smiled. The birth of Dean and Jo’s son had been eagerly anticipated. She smoothed her shirt and insisted they knock on the door and wait for Dean and Jo to let them in. She wanted this to go well. Her first meeting with her charge should be as perfect as she could make it.

It was Dean who let them in, the child in his arms. She could see that he was at ease with that already, slipping quickly into the role of father. They watched Dean with Jack a moment and then Castiel stepped forward.

“Dean, may we?” He held out his hands.

Dean’s hesitation and apprehension was apparent. He glanced down at the sleeping fragile bundle in his arms. “You know how to hold a baby, Cas?”

“I’ve been practicing in preparation, as has Abigael. I wished to be able to hold your child with confidence should the opportunity present itself.”

Castiel had indeed practiced, first with a doll and then with a real baby. He’d done all he could to become comfortable with babies.

“Make sure you support his head.” Dean laid the boy in Castiel’s arms. “Don’t stay all tense, you’ll make him tense. Babies can feel that in your arms, you know.”

“He’s a big child for having been born a month early,” Castiel observed. He was stiff for a moment, shoulders hunched and tense, but then he relaxed, the training kicking in.

“Still pretty small.” Dean adjusted the blanket.

“He’ll grow.” It took a minute longer for him to relax enough to hold the boy in one arm and touch his cheek. “Skin is soft. Children are a marvel.” Castiel glanced at Abigael, then looked at Dean. “May Abigael hold him now? She’s very good with babies.”

That seemed to reassure Dean and he nodded. “Yeah, why not?”

He handed the child to her. Abigael was gentle, as much as she could be and when she held him, she raised a finger and lightly stroked it across his forehead. “Hello, Jack. Welcome to the world.”

That touch, slight as it was, imparted to him the knowledge that when she was there, she would protect him as best she could from any harm that was not in his fate. He opened his eyes and looked up at her for a few seconds, then closed his eyes again, sighed, and returned to sleep.

She let her smile widen into a grin. “He’s a beautiful child, Dean. Jo is well?”

“As well as can be after nearly a day of labor and a night of nurses waking her every two hours to feed him whether he was awake and wanting it or not.”

Castiel cleared his throat. “We should take our leave of you. This is a special time for you. We won’t intrude.”

“You just got here, Cas.”

She handed the boy back to Dean. “He’s precious. The best of you both.” Though she wanted to stay, she knew they needed to go.

Once outside and away from Dean’s hearing, Castiel stopped and looked at the house. “Are you ready?”

“As I can be. I’ve researched the creatures they’ve faced and am as ready as possible for whatever may come.”

“Then I’ll leave you. Report to me in three months. We’ll review your first quarter then.” He left without another word.

Abigael settled in to her duties.