Title: The Curse of Bittersweet Kisses
Part Two --Chapter 22

~~~~~~~~~~

His curtains were open.

Sam didn’t remember opening them. Had he gotten up earlier and opened them before returning to bed? It was a possibility, but he just didn’t remember. Blinking away sleep, he noticed Chuck over by his beat up small dresser. He was looking through the folded shirts on the top of it that Sam hadn’t put away yet. “Chuck,” he whispered in question.

Chuck looked over his shoulder. “Hi, Sam. It’s going to be a good day.” One shirt was drawn from the stack and tossed towards the jeans Sam had left across the chair. “It’s time to begin preparing.”

“For what?”

“You know for what.”

Sitting up, he reached for his daily pill holder. He had one that was for two weeks and at the end of that cycle, he refilled each day. Opening the Wednesday cup, he took out the pill and swallowed it with a sip of water from the glass on the bedside table. He didn’t bother asking Chuck to clarify, as Chuck never would. “Okay. We’ll pretend I do know.”

Chuck took a step closer. “Take the flask from Dean today. He should be sober.”

“Why?” Dean’s drinking had gotten worse as the weeks had gone by, though it wasn’t yet to the point of needing some sort of intervention. Maybe by normal standards it was, but by hunter standards he wasn’t in the danger zone yet.

In a blink, Chuck had gone and Sam heard Dean at his door.

Dean woke a little after dawn. He didn’t sleep much anymore and when he did, he either had nightmares that left him sweating and shaking or he dreamed of Jo and their last night together. He preferred the latter, yet usually got the former.

Tossing off the covers, he sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. His room was chilly, but he didn’t get back in bed. He needed to be out and about. The people here needed him.

Half an hour later, he was showered, dressed, and drinking a cup of bitter coffee, listening for sounds of Sam stirring in the other small bedroom. The cabin they’d taken was once a counselor cabin with a living area, kitchenette, bathroom and two bedrooms. It looked much like some of the motels they’d stayed in save it had the two bedrooms instead of one.

He glanced at his watch, then went to Sam’s door and rapped his knuckles on it. “Rise and shine, Sammy. Take your pill.”

There was a faint groan, the sound of stumbling steps, and the door jerked open. “It’s the middle of the night.”

“Actually it’s morning. Did you take it?”

Sam blinked, sighed, and rolled his eyes. “I’m not two, Dean. I can remember to take my own damn pills.”

“Sure. Did you?”

“Yes.”

“You’re sure?”

“Count them if you want,” he opened the door wider.

He was tempted, but shook his head. “Pass. Heading to breakfast.”

“I’ll be down in a bit.”

They could easily eat in their own cabin and had the supplies for just that, but Dean usually ate breakfast and either lunch or dinner in the dining hall. Jody had pointed out that it was good for the people they had here to see all of them and have a chance to chat. It made people feel like they were still back at their normal lives in a way.

Dean pulled on his jacket and stepped outside. The morning was slightly foggy and definitely cold. He jammed his hands into his pockets and started up the path, thinking about his relationship with Sam.

They were stuck in a holding pattern right now, he could see it. At the point they were at, Sam wasn’t going to get any better or worse. He was simply there, sometimes fairly alert and other times little more than catatonic, staring into space and extremely slow to respond. Dean hated to see him like that and missed how they’d once been.

His first stop was the communications center. The name was more impressive than the actual small cabin. It had a C.B. radio, chargers for various cell phones, their stash of walkie-talkies, a computer, and a TV. A staff of three tried to keep things up and running as much as possible. Some days that was an uphill task.

Jody was there, the television on and tuned to one of the news networks. They liked to keep on top of developments that could affect them all.

“You’re up early,” he commented, standing behind her to read the scroll of news at the bottom of the screen. Roadblocks were being erected at the Canadian border, one island off the coast of a state he didn’t catch was abandoned due to Purgatory demon activity, the Church of Castiel had acquired a large tract of land in Texas, and the President was meeting with foreign dignitaries to develop a strategy for dealing with the PD crisis. All normal news. The world was trying to pretend nothing was wrong when everything was completely wrong.

“Couldn’t sleep. Why’re you up? You didn’t leave here until late.”

“Same. Anything new?” He’d been doing searches on the internet when they had the capability. Sometimes it was available, sometimes it wasn’t. Internet was spotty these days. He’d Googled Ellen and Jo, searching for information and only found the usual bits of nothing.

She looked up and back at him. “Like what?”

“You know what. Have they got them?”

With a shake of her head, she leaned back in the chair. “No, or if they do, they’re not reporting it. Still running a reminder to look for them at the top of the hour.”

Months earlier, the CoC had decided Jo and Ellen had to be found. They claimed the order was from Castiel, but as Castiel had been stuck in Jimmy when that particular announcement had been made, Dean didn’t believe it. He wondered if it was Meg’s influence over Connie or if Connie had realized she was free to act with Cas not around. It could be considered either a good or bad sign that they still ran notices all the time. He hoped it was the former.

He nodded. “Keep me informed.”

“I always do.” Having Jody with them had been a God-send. She’d been very good at knowing what they needed to do and when and in organizing them all. She even mothered them now and then, putting her foot down on some things and quietly encouraging them in others. Though Bobby’s training of her had been interrupted, he’d managed to impart a good chunk of knowledge and her police training had helped them on more than one occasion.

Dean left the building, his mind going back to Ellen and Jo.

After deciding where to go, Dean had sent a message to the box number they’d received for them and waited two weeks at Rufus’s cabin, weeks where he’d realized they couldn’t all stay in such a small space without killing each other. They’d spent the time waiting scouring maps of the area and researching possible locations that would fit their needs while anticipating future needs. Bobby’s house was out of the question as it was too close to CoC headquarters.

Sam had brought their attention to a parcel of land deep in the woods beside a lake. On Bing maps, it looked like there was a town at the lakeside, though no town was listed. The nearest towns were both small and miles away. The place was isolated. Upon closer inspection, the town was actually an old summer camp that had been abandoned due to foreclosure. Jimmy and Jody had gone to investigate, calling back to say it was perfect for their needs and they’d begin settling in and making lists of what needed fixed to make it habitable. Whatever the cause of the abandonment of Camp Wilderness, in the end it was their gain. No one had the slightest interest in the place and those two nearest towns were empty as well, both heavily hit by what they thought had been a tornado. Dean had wondered if the bank that owned it was one of the banks in those towns.

He and Sam had left a message in the cabin for Ellen and Jo in case they were already on their way. In case they weren’t, and had sent Dean and Sam a message, they’d headed to their own box. Unfortunately, quarantine and a heavy military presence kept them from checking it. They’d backtracked, picked a closer town, opened a new box, and sent all of the information to Jo and Ellen’s box number.

The lack of returning messages or of them at all hurt, but he understood caution if the CoC was the reason for their continuing blackout. Dean hoped they were well, hoped that they were kicking butt somewhere, though it’d be hard to do much of anything when people everywhere knew what they looked like. He even prayed for their safety, refusing to acknowledge that what he was doing was prayer.

How had they evaded capture? Especially for this long? He liked to think they had allies, friends they’d hooked back up with who were hiding them and taking care of them.

Yet with each day, week, and month that passed, Dean grew pessimistic about the chance of finding them. The time passing was too great and he knew the odds were against them. Jo was being lost even further with each moment and he regretted that decision they’d made to part ways. It had seemed like the best idea at the time and he now thought it had been the worst idea.

He still reached for her at night and knew he was in mourning for what they’d begun to have together. He kept her picture by the bedside and continued to wear the wedding band, though they’d never actually been married. Occasionally, he woke from dreams of her to find he was clutching a pillow to his chest.

Dean threw himself into work. Whipping Camp Wilderness into shape took up a large amount of his time when he wasn’t out on nearby jobs rescuing people from PD’s and other creatures. They were making progress in turning this place into somewhere livable. Generators helped and he thought they probably should make a run for a few more in the near future. There were still areas of the camp that needed power.

They’d started by cleaning out the cabins that were in decent repair and getting them turned into living quarters and were slowly moving to other areas as they gained people. They’d been looting the towns close by and further out for whatever they could get, ignoring the ‘quarantined area’ signs while being on the lookout for people, PD victims, PD’s themselves, or other creatures. Anything could happen on those trips and he’d felt an almost uncontrollable urge to make this camp a well-equipped mini-town, almost like he was racing against time to make it that way.

There was no deadline that he could tell, yet Dean still worked in feverish bursts of energy to stock and outfit the camp. It wasn’t something he could begin to explain. Jody called it a coping method. Sam called it burying his issues and Jimmy called it good sense in their decaying world.

However, Camp Wilderness, while as good a fit as Jody and Jimmy had proclaimed, had one big drawback for Dean. It was far too much like the Camp Chitaqua from the vision Zachariah had given him. Out of curiosity once, he’d done a search for such a camp and hadn’t found one. Zachariah had probably conjured it up just for him. This place could have been the template however. It had the setting, the basic layout, and even the big sign. Dean sometimes had a sharp sense of déjà vu while walking across the camp.

But it wasn’t Chitaqua. He held on to that thought. Chitaqua didn’t exist.

He entered the dining hall. It was the cleanest of the buildings, the one Jody had immediately put to rights. The air smelled of cooking odors and good coffee. He went to the kitchen door and peered in. “Grub ready?”

The cooks for the day glanced over at him. Randy, the one in charge, shrugged. “Oatmeal is done, coffee is ready, and we’ve got an egg casserole coming out in a few minutes.”

Dean got a fresh cup of coffee and waited. People began trickling in, all greeting him and none moving to join him. That was fine with him. He preferred it that way. When the food line was completely set up, he got a plate and began to eat. He suspected it was going to be a long day.

Sam and Jimmy came in together, the same way they did nearly every morning. They got trays of food and sat down with him.

He had a strange relationship with Jimmy. Sometimes, he’d swear it was Castiel looking at him and talking to him and other times, he knew it had to be Jimmy. He still wasn’t sure exactly what about Jimmy felt off to him and had for months. Maybe it was just that Jimmy was alive at all. Or maybe it was Jimmy’s behavior. The drinking, the flirtation with drugs, and the occasional woman Dean saw coming out of his small cabin.

Dean understood all three, but from Jimmy? Married, devout Jimmy? He supposed them not finding his wife and daughter could have broken something inside him. Jimmy wouldn’t be the first man to head down that path, nor would he be the last. His behavior was uncomfortably similar to future Castiel and Dean was having far too many flashbacks to Chitaqua these days. Usually, he’d seek out Sam’s company for awhile just to reassure himself it couldn’t happen. Chitaqua didn’t exist. It couldn’t. It had never been real to begin with and he was nowhere near that version of himself.

~~~~~~~~~~

Morning was the worst time of day. It reminded Castiel that he’d survived another day and had to begin a new one.

Staring up at the ceiling, he ignored the young woman trying to rouse him for some morning playtime. She was lovely enough and persuasive enough usually, but he simply wasn’t in the mood for human activity.

He placed a hand on Mindy’s back. She turned her face to him. “Leave.”

Disappointment was etched on her face, but she got up from the bed without question. She was used to his moods, dressing in the previous night’s clothes and leaving. Once she were gone, he rolled over, pressing his face into the pillow and screaming into it.

Falling once had been hard, though bearable in the end because of what had been accomplished. The apocalypse had been thwarted.

Falling twice….

There was no coming back from this one, no last minute reprieve from the yoke of humanity. He’d been royally spanked and punished by the God he’d tried to replace, a God who wasn’t as absent or indifferent as he’d assumed. Perhaps he should feel lucky he hadn’t been dropped in the cage with Lucifer and Michael. Instead, he’d been sentenced to humanity, to live with the consequences of all he’d done. He had to see Sam every day and know that it was because of him Sam was in the state he was. He had to see Dean trying to save the world and wonder while he did if one of the PD changed people they killed would be Jo. He had to watch Dean mourn her again.

If he could, he’d forget his attempted foray into godhood.

Getting up, he contemplated slitting his wrists and quickly discarded the idea. Someone always came along and saved him, as though he wasn’t allowed to end his pain and the terrible guilt that held him in a tight embrace. The knowledge that he’d have to tell Dean the truth some day hung over him, the weight of his actions sending him constantly spiraling down into bouts of depression.

In those deep states, he drank, took pills, and he even let a couple of those pretty young women who hung around him seduce him. At least someone cared about him. It was nice to have them express concern and to have someone hold him. The experience of sexual activity had been surprisingly different than what he’d thought it would be like. Each experience was different and yet the same all at once. There was a sort of comfort in the act and he thought he understood now why humans engaged in such activity.

There was no escaping what he’d become and he was exhausted, the play at being both himself and Jimmy never ending, though he was careful to be Jimmy as much as possible, enjoying the camaraderie that had developed over weeks. Dean had relaxed around him after a couple months and had begun talking to him again, the sort of talks they’d once had.

The search they’d done for Amelia and Claire had led to nothing. If the two were in hiding, they’d hidden well. If they were dead there was no sign. In a way, he was glad they hadn’t been found, for Amelia certainly would have realized he wasn’t her husband.

He ran the full gamut of human emotion and suffered the occasional physical consequences from his actions. He had scars now, marks of humanity upon his body. In some moments, he was almost able to convince himself that he was Jimmy and Castiel had never existed at all. He made a half life for himself.

Washing from a basin of cold water, he got dressed in wrinkled clothes and contemplated who he should be today: Castiel or Jimmy. It was safer to be Jimmy, though much more difficult. At least Dean didn’t beat Jimmy to a pulp and take out all his anger on him. It had taken three men to pull Dean off of him one night when he’d let himself slip and tried to apologize for everything he’d done. He’d laid there and let Dean beat him, accepting it as his due, as what had to happen.

Jody had tried to talk to him about how he hadn’t even tried to defend himself, but he’d shut her down before she could say much of anything.

There was a knock at his doorway and he moved towards it. Sam stood there. He was medicated already, indicated by the hunching of his shoulders and the calm coolness to his gaze. The current medication he was on dulled all of Sam’s emotions along with dampening all of his hallucinations to things he could ignore. This was the difference Castiel had noticed the day he’d lost everything, the reason for Sam’s slurred speech and slower way of moving.

“Good morning, Sam.”

“Yeah. You had breakfast yet, Jimmy?”

“Just heading out.”

They walked together. Sam’s steps were shuffling and Castiel winced. This medication sucked the life out of Sam, leaving him a bare shell of who he was. “Is Dean awake,” he asked, guilt clawing up his back to sit on his shoulders. Guilt was a constant companion.

“He’s already in the mess.”

Camp Wilderness had been quite the find. It had been abandoned, but with the assistance of a few survivors of attacks, they’d begun to make it something of a refugee camp for those that couldn’t get help anywhere else, the ones the church and government turned their backs on. The people they saved came here. No longer did they leave people out in the world, not with the PD’s running loose, the government losing control, and the CoC taking over. Dean hadn’t wanted to at first, relenting when Sam and Jody had both pointed out that many of the people they’d helped had nowhere left to go, their experiences taking normal away from them forever. Attacked by vampires and survived? They came here. Attacked by other creatures, problems with ghosts and everything else? They came here. If they wanted. Most lately did, glad to have some place they could call safe.

Once at the dining hall, they got plates of food and sat at one table with Dean. As Castiel ate, he studied him.

Dean had little hope left. Castiel could see it. He was losing the momentum he’d had when Jo and Ellen had been with them, his drive to do much of anything faltering as the camp took shape and became a very real little contained town. He picked at his food, drank too much, and every newscast made the exhaustion that clung to him seem to deepen.

Outside their fence, the Church of Castiel had morphed into an army attempting to wipe out heathens and hell demons as the Purgatory demons worked their way through the general population. Countries tried to fight, trade was interrupted, and the world as they’d known it was gone. It was fast becoming a dog eat dog world, with the U.S. government trying to keep control and failing.

It was amazing really how fast the world devolved.

Bobby was gone, Sam so drugged that he might as well be gone most days, and the only thing keeping Dean going appeared to be the fight to keep the fledgling camp running and the inhabitants safe and the idea that Jo and Ellen were safe somewhere. Dean had confessed that to him and Sam both one night. He claimed that no news about them was good news. Castiel wasn’t sure if Dean really believed that.

Still, Castiel expected him to, one day soon, say to hell with it all, shoot Sam in the head and turn the gun on himself. Cas did what he could for both of them, very aware that much of this was his fault. What could he possibly do to atone? He’d failed in every way.

“Thought I might do one of the surveillance shifts today,” he offered, then glanced at Sam. He was staring down at his plate without taking any bites. “Sam, you need to eat. Take a bite.”

Surveillance teams sat hidden at the major road to the camp, watching daily for anyone approaching. It was a long, boring task, yet completely necessary so no one snuck up on them.

Sam took a bite, chewing slowly, his attention turning to Dean.

Dean removed a flask from his jacket and contemplated it. “Whatever. Jody says we need a raid, mentioned it last night. Says we’re low on a few essentials and we need to bulk up our medical supplies. You mind helping her with that when you’re done?” He looked at the cup like he was trying to decide if he really wanted to doctor the coffee. Slowly, he set the flask on the table.

“Not at all.” Jody Mills was excellent in bullying Dean into action on some fronts and she was also very good with Sam when the medication had him deep under. She’d been the one to suggest they stock up on Sam’s medication while they still could.

Stretching out a hand, Sam snatched the flask up, opened it, and sniffed. “Happy hour is about nine hours away, Dean.” Closing the flask, he set it down on the table. “Isn’t it a little early in the day?”

“It was in my pocket. Forgot it was there.”

It was a lie and a poor one, because even Castiel could see that Dean knew he shouldn’t be drinking at breakfast.

Sam held it up, then slid it into the pocket of his own jacket. “Then I’ll take it back to the cabin for you -- since you forgot it was there.”

Dean pursed his lips, stared at Sam with narrowed eyes, and sat back, relaxing in tiny increments until he shrugged. “Thanks. Appreciate it.” He turned his head, looking across the room rather than at Sam. “I’ll be in communications today. You got plans, Sam?”

“Not really. I’m not good for much of anything. You know that. Maybe I’ll join you later.” Sam lapsed into silence after that, as though the exchange had wearied him.

They parted ways on the path, Sam moving back towards the cabins and Dean towards communications while Castiel checked in with the surveillance team and volunteered to go out. He spent an uncomfortable four hours in the blind and just when his relief arrived, he noted dust on the horizon. The dust grew and he saw vehicles approaching.

“Dean.” He called in and waited for a reply.

“Yeah, Jimmy?” His voice was heavy and tired. “What’s up?”

“Convoy nearing the turnoff. Two vans, two SUVs.” Periodically, they had convoys or even single vehicles head their way, people trying to flee from civilization as it currently was. Apparently heading into the woods was like an instinct to some people. Dean always headed them off and if they seemed inclined to accept, brought them back into camp.

“We’ll check it out.”

He turned the radio over to his relief and headed back through the woods towards camp.

~~~~~~~~~~

Jo missed regular beds. Funny, that out of all the things she could miss, that was high on her list. Maybe if she hadn’t been pregnant, it wouldn’t be so high. As it was, she longed for a soft mattress instead of the makeshift bed in the back of a van. She even longed for the lumpy bed back at Bobby’s house that she’d shared with Dean.

She laid still, listening to the murmur of voices from the front seats and thinking about the current world.

Castiel’s church had gone to war with all other religions. It wasn’t a half-hearted war, but all out battle. News outlets had ceased pretending they were giving unbiased accounts. The Roman Catholic Church was putting forth an even greater effort to convince people that they were in the last days and that Castiel was the antichrist despite there having been no sightings of him in months by anyone except Constance.

Jo sighed. Had Castiel disappeared because Dean and Sam had managed to kill him? It was one of the things she wondered. She also wondered why Constance Turco had a bee in her bonnet for her and Ellen. They no longer went out unless it was night or they could cover their faces, which made traveling anywhere difficult. They took back roads and the dirt roads that had been mostly forgotten, camped in lonely, isolated areas, and spent as much time avoiding civilization as they could.

The journey to get here had been long and more dangerous with each day that had passed. When they’d first set out, she and Ellen had both thought it’d be a week or two. They’d thought they’d reach the cabin and be back with Dean and Sam quickly. That week or two had turned into months as they’d ended up spending much of that time in hiding. Her hopes of being held by Dean and sharing the pregnancy with him had dwindled until she was sure she was going to be giving birth in a field somewhere without him. She was sure that picture of him would have to suffice when their child asked about his or her father.

She wiped at the tears that welled up in her eyes.

Would he still want her when he saw her? Or was he going to take one look at her big pregnant belly and run? Jo prayed for the former and suspected the latter. A few times she’d even almost chickened out on continuing their journey, but Ellen continued to tell her that Dean should at least have the option of staying or going. She was right. Jo knew she was. Dean should know even at this late stage and if he ran from it, then Jo would deal with it then. She shouldn’t borrow trouble, yet with her emotions high, it was difficult not to.

“You think they’re there?”

The voice intruded on her thoughts and Jo looked over at her friend and doctor. Morgan Burgess was a family practitioner who’d also occasionally treated hunters who’d wandered her way. She’d been the first one to hide them when the CoC had come knocking and quarantine made hiding for long periods necessary. Over the months, she’d confided to Morgan pretty much everything about her relationship with Dean, including the supernatural aspects regarding it. With all Morgan had experienced herself, she’d not hesitated to believe Jo. They’d become good friends and Jo was grateful for her support.

“You mean or are we going to find another set of coordinates?”

“Yeah.” Morgan nodded, undid her seatbelt, and moved back with her, leaning across to press a hand to Ellen’s forehead. “Damn,” she murmured.

Jo sat up and pulled on an oversized hoodie over her tshirt. “I don’t know.” More than anything, Jo wanted to find Dean and see for herself that he was okay. She’d wondered at times if Dean had been right and Castiel had taken both he and Sam with him when he’d died. “Maybe. If they had to move on, then yes. We could end up following coordinates for months still.” She gestured at her mother. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh, she’s still too hot. We may need to find a nice icy stream and put her in it to bring the fever down.”

“Wonderful.” A few days earlier, they’d had a close call and Ellen had been injured. She was now feverish and mildly delirious at times. “That’s just perfect.”

“I’m doing what I can, Jo.”

“I know.”

“If we can find antibiotics, she’ll be fine.”

The van lurched to a stop. “Ron? What’s going on,” Morgan called out.

“Looks like bandits maybe,” was his grim reply.

“God, no,” Jo whispered and leaned over to try and see out the front window. The angle was all wrong and she craned her neck in an attempt to see. A familiar voice came through the open window.

Dean’s voice.

~~~~~~~~~~

They set up a roadblock, their standard procedure, and waited for the vehicles to appear. Once they were stopped, Dean’s team surrounded them.

“Get out of your vehicles and keep your hands up. Do not reach for weapons or we will shoot.”

A young man little older than a teenager stepped from the lead van, keeping his hands up. Slowly, people began to emerge from the rest of the vehicles. All except the second van.

“How did you find this road,” Dean barked out in a harsh voice. He glanced at that second van, wondering why they seemed to think they were exempt from his order. He motioned for two men to keep weapons on that vehicle and looked back at the young man. “Answer me.”

The young man flinched, the hands he held in the air shaking. “We were looking for a camp.”

“What camp?”

“Wilderness. She said we had to find Wilderness.”

“Who? Who said it?” He was almost desperate to know who had ferreted out their location and sent people to them. Dean didn’t want to take in the starving masses. It was enough to take in the few here and there who really needed them.

“She’s in the other van,” the young man said with a gulp. “Are you gonna kill me?”

Dean abandoned him to one of his men and went to the second van, banging on the door. “Everybody out. One at a time, hands up. Come on.”

As the people came out, Dean blinked in shock. One was the woman from that vision Zachariah had given him. Risa? He blinked again. No, it wasn’t her, just a woman who looked very much like her and he let out a tiny sigh of relief. His imagination was getting the better of him. He wasn’t living that stupid vision. Couldn’t be. He needed to put that damned thing from his mind once and for all.

Reaching back, she steadied a pregnant girl, helping her step from the van.

His ability to breathe seemed to leave him entirely.

The pregnant girl was Jo. “Jo.”

She licked her lips, tucked her hair behind her ears and lifted her chin a fraction. “Hey. We made it. Better late than never, right?”

He couldn’t help but stare at her stomach. It was quite a bit bigger than the last time he’d seen her about nine…. Dean felt a bit lightheaded, counting back the months. A baby. Jo was having a baby. That meant he was the…. He was going to be a father. Dean realized he still wasn’t breathing and forced himself to both take a breath and look at her face. “Jo?”

“Dean?” She stared up at him, the barest traces of uncertainty in her eyes. “Are you okay?”

“Are you?” He gestured at her stomach. Of all the things he’d imagined, this wasn’t one of them. He’d imagined their eventual reunion would include plenty of alone time together, not a baby on the way. He’d never imagined a baby.

A baby.

My God, Jo’s pregnant, he thought. His gut clenched and his hands felt icy.

Her slow smile was almost serene and she put her hands right where he was trying not to stare, square on her stomach. She patted gently. “I’m very okay. We both are.”

“Am I the…?”

“Yeah, sweetheart. You are.”

“How….” Stupid question. He knew how it had happened. “When….” Also stupid. The timing was easy. Either that giddy period after Castiel died or three weeks later right before she’d left. His lips moved, but he couldn’t seem to get any other words out. Looking around at the people his team had forced from the vehicles, he changed the subject to one he hoped wouldn’t freak him out further. “Where’s Ellen?”