The Devil You Know - SPN

Chapter Twenty-Five

The one where she drops her coffee

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I'd always envisioned the day I found out I was pregnant as a joyous occasion; with smiles so wide that my cheeks hurt and hugs so tight my ribs felt like they'd break. It wasn't. Rather I was sitting in the corner of a dingy motel, my knees drawn up to my chest and tears threatening to spill down my burning cheeks.

Dean was in the bathroom. I could hear the water splashing against the tiles as it sputtered out of the old shower head. The clock fastened to the wall opposite me was ticking obnoxiously and its rhythmic sound made my eyelids grow heavy.

I heard the bathroom door creak open but rather than have to talk to him I decided to feign sleep. I pressed my forehead against my knee; my eyelids fluttering shut. Dean walked toward me; his footsteps echoing in the small room and wrapped an arm around my back, the other under my legs and picked me up as if I weighed nothing; holding my close to his toned chest.

He placed me on the mattress, it sagged under his weight as he collapsed beside me. His arms wrapping around my middle and pulling me against him ever so gently; as if I'd snap.

His heart beating against my back eventually lulled me to sleep, with my hand subconsciously cradling my stomach.

-

"No friggin' way, Car!" Dean barked, his hands flying about frantically.

"It's not up to you Dean!" I shouted back, pushing myself up off the arm of the chair I'd been sitting on.

Sam sighed from beside us, running a hand through his hair, "Guys, c'mon."

We ignored him. My eyes fixated on Dean's and the anger burning behind his green irises.

"You are not going on this damn hunt with a kid in you," he said evenly turning away from me as if now I'd be fine with staying back.

"What's it to you?" I spat, anger bubbling in my veins.

"'Cause it's my friggin' kid too, Car!" he shouted in reply, his green eyes hard and sharp.I wanted to shout something back at him, something to shut him up and let me come but I came up short.

He stared at me for a moment, his features sharp waiting for me to reply. I didn't. And he spun around and walked out, grabbing his leather jacket as he passed it.

Somewhere inside me, a voice was begging him to storm back in, apologize, wrap his arms around me. But a bigger voice hushed it, telling me to scream at him until my voice was hoarse.I listened to neither and collapsed onto the bed as the tears that seemed to be constantly brimming finally streamed down my burning cheeks, carving cool tracks into my skin.

-

I hated waiting. I especially hated waiting in queues. It's even worse when its seven in the morning and I really need my coffee. The people in front of me were moving as slow as humanly possible as if they could sense my urgency and were trying to spite me. I could picture the evil grin on the face of the blonde in front of me.

After an eternity the blonde had finished her order and I had placed mine. And now I was standing, beside her, waiting for my coffee. My fingers were shaking, I hadn't been able to sleep last night and currently I was running on fumes.

I couldn't remember the last time I'd been this exhausted, Dean and Sam had been on the hunt for much longer than expected but I was as stubborn as a mule and refused to call. An acne-riddled barista with a mop of unruly black hair called out, "Phoebe?"

Relief surged through my veins as I stepped toward him, a bright smile on my face despite the terrible mood I'd woken up in.

I wrapped my fingers around the warm cup, allowing the warmth radiating from it to heat my hands. I moved the cup to my lips; but before I could greedily drink the coffee, the ground fell out from beneath me.

Wind rushed past my face before the crowded coffee shop was replaced with a house, the walls splattered with blood. The sudden movement had scared me and my fingers slipped, the cup sliding out of my quivering hands and falling onto the dirty carpet. The lid burst off and the steaming brown liquid sloshed onto the floor.

I followed it with my furious eyes, before flicking my gaze up to the boys. Dean was against a wall, a man holding a blade to his neck and Sam was on the floor, his arm bent at an awkward angle behind him.

I straightened up, the man, whom I now realized was a demon, had Dean against a wall, the demon blade pressed into the skin of his neck. He hadn't looked at me, unlike Dean, whose green eyes were following my every move, his chest heaving with the rasping breaths he was taking.

I flicked my wrist, extending my claws and took a step toward the demon. Only, when I saw my hand my regular over-bitten fingernails were in place. I frowned and tried again, for the same outcome.

Now was not the time to worry about this, instead, I walked to Sam and grabbed the blade out of his belt, realizing the chalky texture of my claws as soon as my hands wrapped around it. In one fluid movement I buried the blade in the demon's back, the thick blood oozed out of the wound, coating the blade and tarnishing the creamy white material.

I threw the demon's body to the side and wiped the blade on my jeans, nearly cursing when the blood stuck in the fine pattern engraved into it.

Dean had long since moved from the wall, running over to Sam's crumpled form. I moved over to the pair, kneeling beside them. Sam was conscious—barely—his eyes were lolling about in his head and he was completely still, save for the twitch of his arm beneath his torso.

I glanced up at Dean who was staring at Sam, pain etched into his features.

"He can't walk," I stated, hoping to spark a conversation rather than this silence.

Dean flicked his eyes up to me, "I know."

"Is your car outside?" I asked, standing up and brushing the dust off my knees.

He nodded before standing as well, "I'll carry him."

I didn't reply, instead, I let my feet carry me out to the car. I fell into the leather seat with ease, the familiar material molding to fit the curve of my spine. It wasn't long before Dean was heaving a now very unconscious Sam into the back seat before yanking open the front door and collapsing against the leather.

He started the car and we drove away from the surprising normal looking street. We sat in silence for a moment before, as per usual, Dean broke it.

"What was that?" He asked, but there was an edge to his voice that I wasn't used to.

"What?" I asked, feigning ignorance.

"You know, the whole magic not working crap!" He shouted I heard Sam stir in the backseat.

"I don't know," I replied. I'd wanted my voice to come out strong but it sounded weak and feeble, I could practically taste the fear laced into the phrase as it rolled off my tongue.

"What? Are you out of plutonium or something? Because right now, you're useless." I should've corrected him, reminded him that I was the one who saved his bacon back there but I didn't.

I don't know if it was the pregnancy or the lack of sleep but his words cut me deep. Slicing a ravine through my perfectly melded armor and allowing all the repressed emotions to tumble out. I hated being useless.

Fat tears rolled down my cheeks and Dean noticed before I could hastily pull the sleeve of my jumper over my hand and wipe it away. His hands tightened on the steering wheel infinitesimally; his eyes didn't leave the road for the rest of the trip.