Fall in Love Along the Way

Weeks 22-32

The rest of the stuff for the babies' room came in, and we set it up.  A thick, fuzzy carpet, two rocking chairs, a cabinet with two changing tables on top.  Diapers, clothes, and more books.  Toys, two swings, two beautifully safe car seats.  A sling for two babies, a breast feeding lap seat for two, two baby carriers, a double stroller.

Every night, Dean and I sat in the rockers and read the babies books. I think they liked it; when I read, they kicked more often than usual. Which was a lot.  Those two were already soccer players.

Sam and I went to my OB appointments; everything was progressing normally, perfectly. Sam also went on walks with me whenever I felt up to it. We walked through the park and the little town, up and down the paved paths.

Everything was perfect.

Until it wasn't.

It was a rare day when Sam and Dean were both gone; I told them I'd be fine by myself. Nothing had happened up to then; zero blips on the demon radar, not even the ghost of a sign that they might be coming for me.

I was in the kitchen making dinner when I heard the door open. "Hey, guys!" I called without turning from the stove. "That you, Sam?"

He was silent, which was strange, but it was totally possible he was on the phone with some hunter, dishing out advice. They'd become that in their hiatus to take care of me; I insisted that they could go hunting, but they refused.  Said they didn't want to bring anything like that even remotely close to me.

I cussed as I tried to shake salt into the sauce; the lid of the container came off and the whole shaker spilled in.  Ruined. 

Footsteps entered the kitchen.  I turned around, a smile on my face to greet Sam with, but it wasn't Sam, and it wasn't Dean.  It was a man with deeply tanned skin, tall and muscular; none of this struck me, though.  It was the eyes.

The black eyes.

I gripped the big knife I'd been cutting tomatoes up with in my hand.  "You don't want to do this," I said, baring the weapon.  The blade still had tomato seeds on it.

He laughed darkly, a deep rumbling sound as black as night.  "Such confidence."

"You think I'm gonna let you hurt my babies?"

He charged at me and I let out a yell, burying the knife deep in his shoulder. He slammed me against the counter, the sharp edge digging into my spine, his hands around my throat.

I clawed at his arms, digging my nails in and grabbing the ladle of sauce. I swung it at him and he screamed as the excessive salt burned his face. I poured the rest of the pot on him and turned to grab the container of salt. I swung it at him, showering him in it, and started to chant an exorcism.

Just as I did, a bright white light filled the room. A high pitched ringing filled the air, and I put my hands over my ears as the light came to a bright center in the middle of the room.  My eyes closed and I shrunk against the excessive sensory input.

After a few seconds, it was gone, and I looked up warily.  The man was on the floor, and another man, a tall, solemn black man, stood in the room. He was where the light had been coming from. "Sorry about that," he said, brushing off his hands.

"Don't take another step," I hissed, grabbing the salt again. "I'll shove so much salt down your damn throat you'll crap margaritas."

"Been talking to Bobby Singer, I see," he said with a small chuckle. "I am no demon, and I am no danger to you. I am here to protect you and your children."

"Bullshit. You wouldn't have even let him in if you were. How did he even get in?"

"It was an experiment. You did well."

"Thanks, asshat. Do you want me to exorcise you now or later?"

He shrugged, sitting at the table. "It won't work.  Do you need Castiel to conform this?"

"Sure," I said, rolling my eyes.  "Like Cas will-"

"Eve." I turned, and Cas stood in the doorway.  "He truly is an angel.  He is Muriel.  He's the archangel charged to protect the Heavenly children, so, to an extent, you, at all costs."

"Are the babies okay?  How long have you been hanging around?" I asked him.  "And are you gonna clean this mess up?"

"You did say she was inquisitive," Muriel said with a small chuckle, standing and approaching me.  "May I?" he said, his hand hovering a few inches away from my stomach.

"You have to ask permission?"

He nodded.  "Okay," I said, and he laid his hand on my stomach, his eyes slipping closed.  He smiled a little, saying, "They are fine.  Perfect.  Annie is asleep.  John is not."

I smiled.  "Thank you," I said.  He snapped his fingers and the room was clean, the body and mess gone, a new pot of sauce just coming to a boil on the stove. 

"Muriel has not been around long," Cas said.  "But I have another mission, so he's taking over this one.  He will be with you and these children as long as you live.  Get acquainted."

And then Cas was gone, and it was just me, Muriel, and the sauce.

"Want spaghetti?'

-

Dean was pissed.  He was beyond pissed that Muriel had let the demon get so close to me.  Sam was angry too, but mostly relieved that I was okay.  When I told him, he looked me up and down, checked me for bruises, and sighed at the minor contusions on my neck.  After he had given me a once-over, he hugged me tightly.  "I'm glad you're okay," he said softly.  "That you all are okay." I let the fear of the whole thing wash over me, the fear of losing my babies, and much less, the fear of losing my own life. Tears flooded down my face, and Sam held me and said "shh, it's okay" and rubbing my back until I stopped crying.

"It's okay," he said softly, resting his chin on the top of my head. "We're all okay."

-

The doctor put me on bed rest since twins always had a chance of coming early. She told Sam very forcefully to stop letting me do stuff. She suggested I pick up a hobby.

So we went out after the appointment and Sam helped me pick out yarn that would go with the babies' room, and some knitting needles, and I started knitting.

The blanket, then two sweaters for the babies, a hat for Dean, a scarf for Bobby, and gloves for Sam. They all loved them, or pretended to. Sam wore his gloves as it was getting rather chilly out; Dean acted like he was annoyed about wearing the hat, but I knew he wasn't. He just wouldn't let anyone else know that.

Since it was too cold to go on walks, Sam and I read a lot together.  We devoured books, reading every other chapter to each other, talking about them for hours.  He was such a deep, complex person; I hadn't ever stopped to think that his thoughts were as expansive and constant as mine, if not more so.

And he was so sweet; everything I needed, he got; every time I cried, he held me; every time I was cold, he got me a blakey; every time I was hot, lighter clothes and a fan; he wouldn't let me do anything by myself because he cared too much.

Dean made sure I had something delicious to eat at every meal. Every time I went out, he made sure I was bundled tightly. When he left, he always seemed to come back with some baby books, or some new yarn, or a little knickknack for the babies' room or mine.

They were both immeasurably sweet.