Title: Baby Rattles, and Shotgun Shells
Author: Yasmine32068
Pairing: Dean/ OFC (Andy)
Rating: Varies from PG-13 to NC-17 Read at your own discretion.
Warnings: Violence, Sexual Situations, language
Disclaimer: Muse, did you check the couch? How about the bottom of my purse? Nope, no money found. Supernatural characters were not harmed in the writing of this piece of fiction. Sorry guys, no money made in using these characters either. Supernatural and the CW are still raking it in. Thanks for asking.

Summary: Murders have always been Andrea Singer’s forte but lately she’s had a hard time concentrating on much of anything when her personal life is in shambles. Druids… Witches… Missing children… This should be an open and shut case… Should be… Part of the Andy (Andrea) Singer verse.

---

It hurts, deep aching. He was gone by the time Sam brings me back to their apartment. There was apart of me that ached. Pain wasn’t new. There was just this constant feeling that I’d done something wrong. I should apologize for breathing. For not being normal enough, for not being what he wanted me to be.

Instead I apologized to Sam. I apologized when I dropped my glass. When I wake him up in the middle of the night to my screams. I apologize when he stays with me. His big body stretched out beside mine, rubbing my back until I fall asleep again. I apologized because Dean left him behind too.

---

“What do you mean that the lab hasn’t gotten those samples back?”

I could already feel tension starting to build in my neck and shoulders. My reflection showed a calm composed woman. All lies and illusions, there was no hiding the dark bruising under my eyes that spoke of too many sleepless nights. I considered a touch of make-up but then I figured why bother. It didn’t look like my day was going to get any better.

“Hey don’t shoot the messenger,” Woods laughed in my ear. “By the way I never got the mock up of the trajectory from the gang shooting.”

“I emailed that to you last night,” I scowled as I turned the corner in the kitchen and froze.

Dean was sitting at their small kitchenette style table with a bowl of cereal. Morning sun framed his head and shoulders in a hazy golden glow. His amulet set off by the black tee shirt that he was wearing. Spoon poised half way to his mouth, milk dripped wetly, forgotten, when he saw me. His eyes narrowed slightly and I could feel my stomach clench.

“I think the carrier pigeon ate it,” Woods chuckled.

My gun was just behind him on the counter. I was ready to bolt when out of the corner of my eye I caught a brown object flying into view.

“Andy?”

“Yeah?”

Dean jerked in surprise when a bagel hit him in the side of the head.

“Son of a,” he growled out, glaring at his brother. “Dude!”

I couldn’t help myself I giggled. Sam glared at his brother from his position by the stove. I mouthed a thank you at him before he gave me a lopsided smile. He turned and held up an egg, to which I wrinkled my nose at him.

“Dean’s there isn’t he?” Woods asked.

I cleared my throat before answering. “Yeah, So what about the tests from the knife? Did they match the weapon found on Olsen Street?”

“There’s no changing the subject,” I could hear the scowl in his voice.

“We have a subject?”

“Cute Singer,” he barked back. “I was just wondering if I need to send back up.”

Sam held up a piece of bread with a crooked eyebrow. I gave him a slight smile. He was going to pester me until I ate something.

“I don’t need back up,” I frowned at the stack of folders sitting where I’d left them last night. I’d meant to go over them but Sam distracted me with Jeopardy and pizza.

“Who says the back up is for you?”

“Funny,” I scowled. ”Don’t you have bad guys to catch?”

“Yeah,” he sighed. “But baiting you is so much fun. So what are you wearing?” he interjected a leer into his voice.

“Bye.”

I hit the end button and took the cup of coffee that Sam offered. It was the only cup that I was allowed. I wrapped my hands around the mug and let the heat warm my icy fingers.

“Woods?” Sam asks curiously.

I hum around my first sip of coffee. Creamed just the way I liked it. A touch of sweet, it was perfect.

“Something for us?” Dean asked and I could feel my back stiffen.

“Um not really,” I choked out and tried to keep my voice even. Sam passed me warm toast smeared with the blackberry jam that I liked. “Just have to check out a few things.”

“What things?” Dean sounded mildly suspicious and vaguely intrigued.

“Someone desecrated a druid’s groove the other night,” my breakfast tasted like ash and my coffee suddenly too thick. My gun was by Dean and I suddenly felt naked and vulnerable.

“Sam do you think I could talk to Andy alone?” Dean asked. My stomach clenched in fear and that was all it took for me to bolt for the bathroom.

---

If Sam sighed and shifted from the driver’s seat one more time I was going to strangle him with my seat belt. I stared out of the window watching the scenery fly by. My own thoughts twisting and turning in my head, Dean had left, telling Sam he’d give me time to calm down.

“You’re scared of him.”

Finally, the anticipation was killing me. I slide a quick glance at Sam’s profile trying to gauge the smooth flat tone of his voice.

“Andy?”

“What?”

I was trying not to be defensive, trying not to growl at Sam like a wounded animal. I took a deep breath and forced it back out.

“Yeah a little.”

“Has he,” Sam swallowed hard and glanced out of his own window before his lips firmed. “Did he? Has he hurt…?”

“No,” I cut in before he could finish that sentence. “God no,” I frowned at him. “I can’t believe that you would think that.”

“Well what the hell am I suppose to think,” he snapped back. “You act like he’s about to pounce on you when you’re in the same room together,” he glanced at me and rubbed his larger hand across my knee. “You can’t even talk to him,” he finished tightly.

“I know,” I frowned out of my window and huddled in my over coat. “I just… He thinks I’m a monster Sam. What am I suppose to do about that?”

“Dean doesn’t think that you’re a monster,” Sam scoffed. “Dean doesn’t think that I’m a monster. A freak maybe.”

“Oh yeah, that makes me feel so much better,” I groaned.

“I just think that there is something more going on than Dean spouting off some dumb ass, half cocked, piece of bull,” I could feel Sam glance at me.

“Sam I’m not trying to lay a guilt trip on you but you were hovering at deaths door.”

“Yeah and something like that should have brought you together not driven you apart,” Sam pointed out. “Right?”

“Yeah but I’m still not seeing where you are going with this.”

“I’m just saying that you and Dean were thick as thieves prior to me being in the hospital then Kelly shows up,” he shrugged. “Suddenly neither of you can stand to be in the same place together. It’s just weird, especially since Dean is totally floored by it all.”

“Floored?”

“Yeah Andy,” Sam scowled at the road. “He’s going to kill me,” he muttered to himself. “Do you think that maybe…”

“Maybe what Sam? Maybe I misunderstood the monster crack or the fact that he was holding another woman and then tells me that he’s got a kid with her. How much of this could I possibly misunderstand?”

“Sorry,” he muttered ruefully. “It just seems off. Like I don’t know strange.”

“Especially since I can’t pull up a background,” I muttered.

“You tried too?” Sam chuckled. “I am shocked at you Agent Singer. That is totally illegal.”

“Well she’s messing with my baby’s daddy,” I groused.

“We should totally sign up for Jerry Springer,” Sam laughed. “I hear they pay well.”

---

Daphne Wayne is of Scottish descent. Her family had owned the land for generations, over the years it had been passed down from generation to generation. Starting at first as a small horse farm and gradually branching out, always living off the land, becoming one of the most successful horse ranches in the area.

Sam and I almost missed the turnoff to her house. If it wasn’t for the plowed end of her driveway we might have totally missed it. The front half of the property covered by evergreens and shrubs creating a barrier between the road and the house. It was hard to miss the Celtic knot work woven into the iron of the open gates.

Daphne Wayne didn’t conjure up the image of the cartoon counter part. She strolled from her barn with a determined gait. She was broad shouldered bundled in well worn flannels. Her faded jeans clung to firm hips and thighs. She called off her dogs with a soft sound.

“Ms. Wayne?” Sam called out. “I’m Agent Winchester and this is Agent Singer. I believe you were expecting us?”

She’d froze a few feet away from us. She let her eyes flicker over the both of us. A faint frown forming and I suddenly felt like I was under a microscope.

“You’re here about the grove,” her scowl deepened.

“Excuse me?” Sam’s eyebrows rose. He glanced in my direction with a confused look.

“You’re here about the grove,” she continued.

“Yes,” I spoke up.

“I don’t have anything to do with that,” she waved off her dogs.

“I thought that the Waynes always had their fingers in their grove,” I crossed my arms over her chest, noting the way her shoulders tightened.

“I don’t know what you heard but I am a good Christian,” she snapped defensively.

“So you don’t know anything about the significance of the blood all over the place or who could have done it?” Sam asked. “Please, someone died for there to be that much blood. We’re just trying to make sure that no one else gets hurt,” he informed her earnestly.

It became a battle of wills. Stubborn verses Sam’s patented pleading eyes. Sam won out. She took a deep breath and blew it out.

“Power calls to blood,” she told us cryptically. Her gaze flickered over us nervously.

“Power calls to blood what does that mean?” I frowned at her.

“You should know Andrea,” her eyes became distant and unfocused. “Or maybe you’re too close to the source.”

“The source?” Sam straightened. His body jerking taunt with protective tension.

“She’s cursed,” Daphne informed us. “Find the person that cursed her and you’ll find out who desecrated the grove.”

She turned and marched back the way she’d come.

“Ms. Wayne?” Sam called out. Her shoulders hunched against the chilling wind that suddenly blew through the trees.

“Cursed Sam. I’m cursed,” I threw out my arms. “Isn’t that fucking peachy?”

---

It was all down hill from there. We were almost twenty minutes late for the sonogram and were forced to wait while they squeezed in a few more people ahead of us. What they considered a 15 minute wait took an hour. I fidgeted in my seat while Sam remained calm and cool. He sat with long legs crossed, casually catching up on his Fishing Quarterly.

I tried to focus on a magazine but I couldn’t stop the nervous bounce of my leg. I crossed and uncrossed my legs. Sam blew out a sigh and laid a hand on my knee to calm my nervous movements before leaning into my space.

“Andy it’s okay. Relax,” he murmured softly and flashed me a small smile.

“How can you be so freaking calm?” I snapped back.

“Who says I’m calm,” Sam grinned and patted my knee. “I’m reading some damn fishing magazine for heavens sake,” he huffed. “It’s kind of disgusting,” he frowned at the offending magazine.

“I,” my mouth opened and closed for a moment. “I’m sorry to drag you into this,” I finished remorsefully.

“Remind me to turn you over my knee after the baby is born,” he teased back.

We both jumped when one of the women near us gasped and stared at Sam in shock. He flushed beet red before stammering out an explanation and an apology.

“Don’t worry honey,” I patted his knee. “I can’t wait until you tie me up again too,” I grinned.

He stared at me with open mouth shock until one of the bubbly nurses called us to the back.

“Hey did I miss it?” Dean’s voice cut in.

“What are you doing here?” Sam frowned at his brother.

“Baby’s first picture,” Dean grinned. “Or something like that,” he waved a hand. “They got them developed yet?”

“Developed? This isn’t a…” Sam’s voice dropped an octave. It was usually the first sign that he was about to dot his brother’s eye for him.

“You want to go back with us?” I frowned at him.

“No,” Dean met my eyes. “I want to go back with you.” His entire being was earnest, sincere.

“Is there a problem here?” the nurse asked. “Is everyone coming to see the baby?”

“It looks like,” I told her grimly.

She silently followed her down the hallway and into one of the rooms. She passed me a hospital gown.

“You can change through there Mommy,” she told me in a friendly voice.

“Behave yourselves,” I hissed at them as I went into the little cubical and undressed.

Open backed hospital gowns were definitely not designed for modesty. I held it closed as much as I was able to. Sam studied the posters on the wall. He’d turned his back giving me a small measure of privacy. Dean surprisingly enough held a hand out to me. A small encouraging smile on his lips when my hand slid into his dry palm. He gently eased me onto the table. I could feel my pulse jump and a flush burn in my cheeks at his touch. The nurse was nice enough drape a blanket over my lap.

“Okay, so who is everyone?" she asked in a friendly voice ash she got things set up.

“Uncle and father,” Dean told her, moving aside as she attached a fetal monitor to my slightly rounded stomach. The steady whoosh of the baby’s heart beat filled the room. Sam stepped a little closed as she turned on the sonogram machine. I hid my shaking hands by entwining my fingers through his.

“So you have a nice full bladder right?” She asked.

“Uncomfortably so,” I assured her.

“Why a full bladder?” Dean asked with a frown.

“It brings the uterus up so we can get a clearer look,” she made some adjustments and reached over to grab a bottle of blue goop. “Sorry someone forgot to put these is the warmer,” she squirted a literal amount on my stomach. The cold made me gasp.

We stared at the monitor, trying to make sense of the black and grey images as she moved the probe around my stomach to spread the jelly.

“I have to take some measurements of the amniotic fluid,” she murmured in the quiet of the room.

Sam watched with a tiny frown marring his forehead. His thumb rubbing a soothing circle over the back of my hand. Dean almost vibrated with his excitement. I tried to keep my breathing calm and steady.

“Are the fluid levels normal,” Sam asked.

“As far as I can tell they are,” she added a little more goop to the mess on my stomach. “But the doctor will have to take a look,” she flashed him a small smile. “Okay ready to see baby?”

We sounded like a freaking chorus. She maneuvered the probe around. A tiny grey skull appeared in the screen.

“Hello baby,” she told us softly.

Dean glanced at me with sparkling eyes and a wide smile. The nurse took pictures and measurements of the skull.

“Does the baby look okay to you?” Sam asked anxiety coloring his voice slightly.

“I think so,” she made an adjustment. “When’s your due date?”

“April 17th,” Dean chimed in. I glanced at him startled.

“According to this you might want to look at a little sooner.”

She traced along the baby’s spine, finding hands and feet. She pointed out the umbilical cord.

“Do you want to know the baby’s sex?”