A New Chapter

Research

"Again?" Dean whined as he pulled over in front of another gas station. You nodded, feeling more than a little guilty for having to stop once again. It was the third time, and while you were almost to your destination, there was no way your pregnancy bladder was going to let you make it.

"I'm sorry." You muttered as you made your way into the small gas station. Quickly making use of the bathroom, you came out to find Dean at the cash register. Walking up behind up, you placed a hand on his back, feeling him stiffen before recognizing you. "I hurried as fast as I could." You said, still feeling bad for making them stop again.

He turned to you, your favorite candy bar in his hand. "No, I'm sorry for being gruff with you. I get it, that we will have to do stuff like this more and more. Change our game plan. It's not your fault."

You took the candy bar, following him back outside to the Impala. After spending ten minutes trying to find a comfortable position,  you ate your candy bar, relaxing as Dean cranked up his classic rock.

"So I've been doing a little bit of research." Sam started, and Dean scoffed.

"When don't you do research?" Dean teased, earning a glare from his brother.

"Not about the hunt. About Y/N, and her pregnancy. I figured you wouldn't, and I didn't want Y/N to be on her own. Especially since we aren't sure if there will be issues since she used to be a Demon, and has a little bit of Angel in her too."

You were pleasantly surprised by Sam's admission. And grateful. "Thank you Sam." You said, as he gave you a smile.

"What I was going to say, is, do you think it's a good idea to be blaring classic rock? Studies show that babies can hear and listen to music, and a baby who listens to classical is usually smarter."

You had heard that too, but thought it was still too early in  your pregnancy to matter. And you wanted your daughter to love this music just as much as you and her father did. "Screw that! Our daughter will be smart, but she will also like this music, I know it." Dean argued, and Sam gave up after that.

It was shortly thereafter that you finally arrived at the motel. It was as all the rest of the motels you've stayed at, worn down and well used, but still offering a somewhat clean bed to sleep on.

Dean grabbed your bag for you, along with the cooler full of your snacks while  Sam went to check in. He came back with a disappointed look on his face. "Sorry guys, I was gonna get us two rooms, but they only had one left."

"It's alright." You assured him, giving Dean a pointed look, reminding him not to pull any funny business. Sitting your stuff down, Dean looked at you as you stretched your back.

"Is everything okay?" He asked you as Sam pulled out his laptop,  getting right down to business. You nodded before walking over to Sam, tapping his shoulder.

"Sam, I've got this. I promised Dean I'd stick to research. Why don't you guys head down to the morgue, see if you can find anything."

He stood up, agreeing with you. You sat down at the computer as they switched into their FBI get ups.  Dean stood in front of you, fussing with his tie while Sam changed in the bathroom. Abandoning the computer, you helped him, using a trick your Dad had showed you. "You know, in my Dad's time, ties weren't that popular yet. Business men sometimes wore them, but not the wealthy. But my Dad did, a time or two."

You had a far away look, and it took Dean cupping your cheek to bring you back. "It's easy to forget that you grew up in such a different lifestyle than us. That you were around a hundred years ago. You should really talk about it more often."

"I agree. I would love to hear more first hand knowledge of history." Sam agreed as he joined the two of you.

You nodded, missing your parents for the first time in a long time. Especially your mother, who you wished could be there to help through your pregnancy. Wiping a stray tear from your eye, you patted Dean's chest. "Sure, maybe at dinner sometime. I really do think my Dad would have loved you. Both of you."

You could have sworn Dean blushed before he leaned down, giving you a quick peck on the cheek. "Be careful. Keep the door locked. We will bring food back."

You stood at the window, the curtain pushed aside as they climbed into the impala, dust flying behind them as it pulled out of the parking lot. Sighing as it went out of sight, you went to the cooler, pulling out your container of peanut butter, grabbing a spoon. Settling in front of the computer, you began typing away, pulling up the latest news articles. It was boring work, and you felt yourself drifting off multiple times.

After a couple of hours you were about ready to give up when a pattern caught your eye. Pulling your phone out, you quickly texted Dean, asking him to call you. Shutting the laptop down, you grabbed the remote and your phone, settling down on the bed, turning on some mindless television.

Within five minutes your phone started buzzing and you answered it, Dean's voice deep and concerned on the other end. "Hey sweetheart, what's up? I got your message."

"I was looking through the newspapers, and police reports, and one thing stood out above all else. I thought you'd want to know." You started explaining.

You heard Sam's voice, and Dean answering him before he came back on the line. "Glad you found out something, we sure the hell didn't."

"All three guys have been seen talking to a waitress at the local Biggersons. They leave, and aren't seen again until they are found dead. But one witness says he saw one of the guys with another woman, outside. He thinks she's a prostitute."

Dean took a moment to explain to Sam. "Alright, we will head over, talk to the waitress. Then we will bring food back. Should be gone another hour, tops."

"Be careful. Oh, and the waitress is Kacie. She has reddish brown hair and blue eyes." You read off the description you had written down. Hanging up the phone, you glanced at the time, amazed to see it was already seven in the evening. Turning your attention to the TV, you let it lull you into a light, fitful sleep, tossing and turning on the bed, your phone slipping from your fingers.

Yawning, you rolled over, grabbing the alarm clock from the night stand. Your eye sight still fuzzy from sleep, it took you a moment to read the red numbers on the screen. But once they connected in your brain, you dropped it, wincing at the loud sound of plastic banging against wood. Scrambling out of bed, you almost fell to the ground, grabbing your phone. You had been asleep for four hours, and Sam and Dean weren't back yet. They should have been back a long time ago, waking you up, making fun of you for falling asleep once again. But they weren't, and that thought scared you.

Your heart beating furiously, you checked for messages, a missed call, anything to let you know they were just running late. But when your phone came back with no new messages, you fell to the edge of the bed, fear constricting your throat.