Chapter 14: "So This Is My Little Bobbie Belly"

Laurel was ecstatic to be getting back to work. The town was in need of a new lawyer ever since a werewolf killed the last one. Or maybe the last lawyer was the werewolf, she couldn't remember. Either way, she had a job and she was thankful for the opportunity the tiny town was providing her. As to be expected for a fresh face in town, the cheerful public servant only had the one appointment for today. Not that such a slowness worried her or was cause for anxiety. In fact, it worked most marvelously in her and Dean's favor. After work, she and Dean had worked out their schedule for the rest of the week and excitedly arranged for a few house tours, so double yay there. The first was today at 3:10 PM. Dressed in a blue women's suit, Laurel reclined in her chair as she drummed her fingers on her desk. She wasn't terribly impressed that her first real client was already late but what could she do but be patient? This kid was certainly teaching her patience. Then she saw the guy's shape in the doorway, opening the door, which made the little bell chime. She waved him down and smiled at him, getting up and extending her hand in greeting.

"Hi, I'm Laurel," she wobbled a little in her heels, but oh well. Mental note to not wear heels anymore. She noticed his look of concern at her little wobble but she brushed it off and took her seat again. He sat across from her. "So what is the problem, Mr. Erickson? You think your wife is cheating on you? All due respect, that may be a better job for a private investigator, but I'll do what I can."

"No, I know my wife is cheating on me. She's wanting a divorce and filing for sole custody of our son."

"Oh," Laurel replied. In her first life, she didn't handle family court cases. New life, new boundaries to destroy, she supposed. "I'll do what I can," she repeated. "I've never actually handled divorce cases," her tone was a bit more insecure in her stance on the matter than she liked. Erickson didn't seem to mind. He just smiled and laughed. "Well, I have faith in you, Miss Lance. You come highly recommended." This made Laurel blush.

Dean. Sam. Castiel. They were too sweet to her. What did she do to deserve these boys?

"I appreciate that, Mr. Erickson. I-"

A sudden onset of butterflies in her belly made her blush all the more. Bobbie! Huh. That was odd. This didn't ever happen this late in the morning. "Looks like she's awake," she giggled. She thought the little smile-inducing deduction was simply voiced in her head, but one look at Erickson informed her that she'd said it aloud. Such information just deepened her blush. "Sorry, I'm just excited."

"I see that. She your first?"

"Yeah!" Laurel's eyes sparkled. "Yeah. She is. Certainly not planned," she fingered her engagement ring absently, "but we're making the most of it. We're naming her Roberta, after a friend of ours that died. 'Bobbie' for short, which is mainly what I've been calling her. Our friend was named Robert but we always called him Bobby. It sorta made sense. So this is my little Bobbie belly." Laurel gushed. She knew she was gushing, and to a complete stranger, but she didn't care. By his amused smile, she surmised he found it cute or charming or whatever. Probably a pleasant distraction from the rather nasty and tangled business at hand.

Time to stop being an excited puppy, Laurel, you're at work.

"Okay. Anyway…"

Just as she was about to continue with their meeting, taking a look at the email Mr. Erickson had sent her the morning before, Laurel broke into a giggle fit again.

"Oh my gosh, feel! Feel this!" She grabbed the hand on her desk and pressed it against her belly, off to the side and just above her navel. Her eyes lit up like a damn Christmas tree. "You feel her?"

"Yeah," his own mirthful laugh escaped him after a few seconds, "she's a strong one." He withdrew his hand. "How far along are you?"

"Twenty-three weeks and five days," Laurel repeated with a bit too much eagerness. She caught herself that time, cleared her throat, and sat up straight in her chair. "So about this case…"

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Dean and Helena had been sparring for the better part of the daylight hours when Nyssa joined them around noon.

"Dean. Helena. We have a problem."

"That the greatest douche in existence is back and is jonesing for me?" Dean rolled his eyes.

The fear in Nyssa's eyes was not something to be ignored. "Michael? He is here as well?"

"Yup," Helena popped the 'p' in the word. "Why, what do you know of him?"

"Hunters were not the only ones involved in defending the planet against the apocalypse of '09, Helena." Nyssa deadpanned. "The League was very determined to aid in any way it could. I tangled once or twice with demons, but never the archangels. I just knew of Michael until now, but I knew enough to know about whom Dean is referring. And Ra's al Ghul has returned. The original."

"I filled them in on all of that."

The door to the training room opened and Mary in all her no-nonsense glory sauntered inside. "So, son," her eyes locked with Dean's. "I understand you've been busy."

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The rest of Laurel's meeting went swimmingly, with a follow-up to discuss the more details of the proceedings set up for Monday. She entered the bunker, descended the staircase, and plopped her keys down on the table as per usual. Normally, she didn't even look up. It had become so second nature to her that Dean or Sam or Cas or, more recently, Helena were sitting there with some sort of news or a smile for her.

She heard discussion from one of the training rooms. Figured. Dean and Helena had been going at it since before she left for work.

She did not expect the individual who currently occupied Dean's usual chair. Her eyes darted to the sound of her fiancé and Helena's voices- as well as the unknown vocalizations of a third, a woman- and back to the man. It couldn't be! It just couldn't!

"Dean?"

Mary actually opened the door and sprinted into the main area. She was equally shocked to see Laurel, so much so in fact that she didn't take notice of the man at the table. Why should she? She didn't know him. Not like Laurel did. Does?

Did.

Most certainly did.

Because this can't happen. He's been dead for four years.

Laurel finally dropped her bag as the man's name spilled forth from her lips, barely more than a whisper.

"Tommy?"

Tommy smiled, that same old overconfident Tommy grin she recalled from the interim between the Gambit sinking and the first time he officially asked her out. From before everything went to hell for years.

"Dinah Laurel Lance. Always trying to save the world. Been a minute. Miss me?"