39. The Soul Bomb
I've accepted this new routine. I've accepted the lack of sleep that comes with it. I'm used to getting few hours anyway, that's what happens when you were hunting monsters almost every day of your life.
This, however, isn't hunting anything; it's taking care of someone who can't take care of themselves just yet. Taking care of someone who has to grow into their own person and learn things in order to live.
Groggily, I pull myself out of bed, tugging the sheets around me. It's rather cold in the house, even colder in the hall. She isn't fretting much, but I've become so attuned to her that any faint noise I hear, I'm awake for. It's a curse sometimes, but a blessing in others.
Even though the lights are off, I can see everything in her room. From the stars on the ceiling to the stuffed animals in the room. I don't let any in the crib with her, I don't want her to accidentally suffocate herself.
Rubbing my eyes, I peek into the crib. She twitches in her sleep, like she's suffering from a bad dream. Smiling sadly, I dip down, rubbing her stomach softly. I didn't think I was going to transition so easily into motherhood. I thought I was going to go through Hell, even consider giving her up because of my lack of confidence.
My eyes snap up at light disappearing from the room. Almost smoke-like, darkness has covered the window. It's not clouds covering the moon, it is legitimate darkness blanketing the window. I step away, see it sneak around near my feet.
I want to take my baby and run, but I don't think I'll get very far.
I look around. Anything I can use? Anything at all? Not unless they want to be smothered to death with stuffed animals.
I know who this is. I don't like where this is going. Looks like this is going to end very badly.
"I thought you were done?" I ask through gritted teeth, keeping my eyes on my little girl.
"My work is never done," she says softly. I try and resist the pull she has over my body, a pull so strong it actually forces my body to turn away from the crib and face her. I feel a sickening feeling in my gut just by looking at her. What she could possibly be here for, there are so many guesses. She looks around. "What, no protection?"
"I gave it up once I gave birth," I say coldly.
She chuckles. "So this will be much easier, then. Good. I didn't want to waste a lot of effort in this, anyway." Black smoke encircles her hand, and I see the gleam of the knife.
"You don't need to do this."
"I do."
I don't make much noise when the knife sinks into my stomach. The most she gets out of me is a shocked squeak. The baby doesn't cry. I hope for her sake she stays asleep. Cas...
"You can't get yourself out of this one, Josette," she says, twisting the knife inside of me. My hands encircle her wrist, trying to get her grip off the knife hilt. "You were always destined to go out with a bang."
She rips the knife out, the blood dripping onto the floor. My hands go there long enough to come back painted in red. A force shoves me off my feet, attaching me to the ceiling. Now, the tears come. The baby is still asleep, completely unaware.
"Get away from her," I hiss as Amara goes to the crib. "Don't you dare touch her!"
"What will it matter?" Amara looks up at me. "You'll be dead soon. Besides...I've always wanted to take care of a baby."
"No!" I howl as she reaches for my little girl. She doesn't cry when in the hands of Amara. I'm afraid she'll die if the bitch touches her skin; she's covered in blankets right now. "Put her down!"
"You brought her into this. What did you expect?"
"Just take me, leave her out of this."
"Oh, I plan to take you. It was never doubted."
"P-please. J-just let her go."
Amara snickers. "The great Josette Winchester sniveling. How pathetic."
"It's because you'll never understand, bitch," I hiss softly. "You'll never understand what this feels like."
"Hm. You're right. I won't." She tilts her head. "I think I'll leave your brothers and Castiel a little present." She gestures a hand up to me.
I feel as though I'm glued to the ceiling. Instead of it erupting into flames as I fear, the darkness starts to spring itself up from the floor towards me. I can feel its grabby touch on my skin. I can feel it crawling up my body, hugging me, accepting me. Cas, don't come to the house. Please, don't. Just keeping looking for Amara. T-tell Sam and Dean that I love them...
As I feel it creep up my neck, it slowly takes away the air that I breathe. The air feels poisoned, contaminated. I twist and turn my head. It pools into my mouth, and now I start screaming. It comes out more as a gag, really. A muffled, agonized gag as Amara watches, with my baby in her grasp.
I fight through the black to get a lasting glimpse at my baby. Make it quick.
Sam, Dean, Cassie, gank the bitch for me.
***
I sit up in bed, rubbing my eyes with the heels of my palms.
"Josette?"
How long have I been out?
Cas watches me carefully in the doorway. Slowly, I pull myself out of bed. He's right at my side in an instant, steadying me. I note that one of his hands is protectively over my stomach.
"Easy," he tells me softly. "You've been through a lot."
"All I did was take a nap," I chuckle. "How did the talk go?"
"Not in our favor." He takes a lock of my stringy, dark hair, seemingly focused on nothing but that. "I'm not sure what everyone else managed to get, my first stop after Heaven was you to check in."
"How sweet." I smile thinly. "Cas?"
"If it's about the baby, I...I sensed it, when I woke. But I wasn't sure at the time."
"She's real."
"'She'?"
"Chuck—uh, God, he, uh—he told me." I blush. "I guess we've got a clever baby on our hands, I didn't realize I was pregnant for a long time."
"I guess not. You don't look like you've swelled much."
I shake my head. "I haven't. But since God coaxed her out of hiding, she's been more vocal. Believe me, I wanted to tell you the minute I found out, but, a lot of things happened at the same time."
"Yes, I know." A sheepish smile plays on his lips. "We're having a baby." But the smile soon turns sad, and I know why. He's thinking the same thing that I have before: Will we have a future that involves our daughter? What will that even look like, if we survive this?
"I'm no expert on angels, Cas, but, uh, what is our daughter exactly?"
"A half-breed called a Nephilim. She'll be the only one in existence. There was one before her, but, uh, she was killed."
"Are Nephilim dangerous?" I look at him.
"Not dangerous, but they're looked down on because they're the product of a human and angel mating."
I snort. "It's twenty-sixteen, they need to get over it."
"It's a serious issue, Josette."
"I'm not saying that it's a joke," I say carefully.
"It's possible that, in time, they'll come for her."
"Who, the angels?"
"Unfortunately, yes."
"Jesus Christ." I smack my forehead. "She's not even born yet and she's got a bulls-eye on her!"
"In all fairness, she's had that long before you knew what she was, with her lineage and all."
Guess I won't be able to live that quiet life that I want for us. "Well, maybe the angels will be too focused on other matters that they'll forget about her." I look away. "Come on, you need to tell the others what you came up with." I lead Cas by the arm out of my bedroom, back into the war room of the bunker.
All faces wear dejected expressions, and already I know that Cas's news will only pile on to everyone else's.
"Bring on the bad news," I say glumly.
"We sucked up every ghost in Waverly Hills," Dean says.
"The angels are—Heaven won't help," Cas says lowly.
"They know that this is the end, right? Of everything."
"Yes."
"And they don't care?" asks Sam.
"No, it's not that. It's...They know—They know God is dying and they don't think we can win this. Souls or no souls. They're sealing Heaven, and they're 'dying with dignity'."
"Well, that's awesome," Dean mutters.
"All right, Crowley," I say to the King of Hell. "Your turn. What about you?"
"Well, I had all the souls we needed," he says.
"What do you mean 'had'?"
"While I was indisposed, a few of my demonic pals decided to raid my stash."
"Well, what we have—it's not enough."
I get defensive when the electricity shorts out above our heads. The bunker's red lights come on, almost pulling me back to a traumatic memory of Hell. Cas's grip on my hand is the only thing that's keeping me from plunging into the depths of my mind.
Sam and Dean cock their guns up towards the stairs, Cas holds an angel blade in his other hand. We all hear the footsteps and see the door swing open. A woman with dark skin and very frizzy, yet tame black hair, walks in.
"Nice digs," she says, her voice on the lower register.
"Billie?" asks Sam.
"Who's Billie?" Rowena and I find ourselves asking in unison.
"Reaper," Dean says shortly. "Wants us dead. Tons of fun."
"Hey," Billie tells Crowley as she walks past him. I get a very uncomfortable vibe just from them glancing at each other.
"Wait a second," Sam addresses Billie, "H-How did yo—What are you doing here?"
"I saw you boys at Waverly Hills, and call me a curious kitten, but with, you know, credits about to roll, I gotta ask—why you boys busting ghosts?"
"Why do you care?" I ask.
"Dead folks—kind of my thing. So...spill."
"We're collecting souls to build a bomb," says Sam.
"To blow the Darkness to Hell," I add. We glance at the glowing bomb that's on the table.
"Okay," is Billie's answer.
"Okay? Uh, w-what does that mean, 'okay'?"
"Means way things are going, I'm about an hour away from reaping God himself."
"So you're here to help us?" Cas questions.
"Little tip—you want souls, call a reaper."
"Well, gee, why didn't we think of that?" I say sarcastically. Billie glowers at me as she walks to the bomb, holding it. "Well, this is exciting."
The bomb glows brighter, and noise floods our ears. I feel like we all have to duck and dodge the oncoming bright souls that fly into the bunker and into the bomb. It feels like it's a good few minutes before the soul herd stops.
"How many souls are in there?" I ask curiously.
"A couple hundred...thousand," says Billie. "I raided the Veil. Like I said, dead folks—kind of my thing." The reaper looks at Rowena. "We good?"
"Very," says the witch, retrieving her bomb from Billie.
"Super."
"See you around," Dean says as Billie heads out the bunker.
"Yeah. You will. Just hope it's not today. Crowley."
"So, what now?" I ask, trying to get the mental picture of Crowley and Billie together out of my head.
"Well, now we have the bomb," Dean says, "so we just got to find Amara."
"I can track her," says Chuck. "She's not warded anymore. Why would she be? She won."
"Okay, so?"
"We need somebody to get close to her, someone with a...personal connection," Rowena says.
Immediately, all eyes fall on my older brother.
"Well, what are we waiting for?" Dean asks. "How do I smuggle this thing?"
"We could always shove it up your—" Crowley begins to get out.
"Hey," I snap.
"I mean, you could."
"You won't carry the bomb," Rowena tells Dean. "You'll be the bomb. I'm gonna take what's in there...and put it in here." She places a hand over his chest. "Once you get close to her, you press your fingers together like so—boom."
Rowena's words make my head spin. Dean has to become a bomb now? This is bad on so many levels. She begins to chant a spell, and once she's finished, a bright light smacks into my older brother. He grunts, hunching over in pain.
"Dean, are you okay?" asks Cas. "How do you feel?"
"Like my insides just got flame-broiled. Is that normal?"
"Sweetie, we're so far past normal," says Rowena. "You've got an hour, maybe a wee bit more, then you're literally a walking ticking time bomb."
An hour. An hour. Is she joking right now? Dean will most likely meet certain death in an...hour?
The idea makes me so ill that I actually vomit onto the bunker floor.
**[sighs] Poor Jo.**