Final Chapter y'all! Thanks for reading!

Two Weeks Later

"Dean!"

"Mmmmm," Dean mumbled in his sleep.

"Wake up! I'm going into labor."

"Nnnnnnnn," Dean groaned. "Can't it wait til, you know, morning?"

"You want me to have this baby on your memory foam mattress?" Sam deadpanned.

"I'm getting up."

"I thought so."

"I'll get the get car ready." Dean grabbed the hospital bags, feeling the panic setting in, and ran out of the room.

Sam shook his head fondly to himself, and groaned as the next contraction hit. Sweat dripped down his face and practically soaked his back. He was hot, so hot. "Aaaaaaaah." What was taking Dean so long? Fuck, it was hot.

Unnaturally hot.

Was the heat on?

He heard a thump. "Dean? That you?" No answer. Sighing heavily, he lifted his ample stomach off the bed and got to his feet. He walked out the door (he did not waddle, thank you very much, no matter what Dean said) with the intention of meeting Dean out the car, he must be waiting for him there.

He was met with a wall of fire.

Dean set the hospital bags in the trunk, doing his best to keep the panic at bay. Wasn't this a little early? Sam was barely past eight months. Was the Baby okay? Oh god, they were about to meet their Baby.

Dean turned, intending to go back in the Bunker and retrieve Sam so they could be on their way to the hospital—

The Bunker was on fire.

He'd left the door open for time's sake, and he could see flames billowing out from the entrance. In spite of himself, he froze. Not again. He was going to lose someone he loved, a home he loved, to the fire again.

"Dean! What's going on?" Mary came running up behind Dean with panic written clear on her face. "I heard you come out here and figured the Baby was coming, followed you out here, and I was walking off some of the excitement… Where's Sam?" She turned, saw the fire, and gasped.

"He's in there. Sam! SAAAAM!" Dean shouted, running for the door to the Bunker, but Mary held him back.

"You can't go in there!"

"But Sam's in there, I need to get to Sam, Sam-"

A whirring sound grew louder, and louder, the sound of several helicopters, until it was right over them and suddenly men dressed in black were dropping from the sky, guns aimed directly at them. There had to be hundreds of them.

"Don't move, or I'll blow your brains out," the closest one sneered.

Dean growled, but his hands up in the air in a clear sign of surrender, Mary doing the same. Every fiber of his being ached to run into the Bunker, but he couldn't save Sam if he was dead.

"Hello hello, Sam" Toni Bevell smirked as she strolled into the bedroom like she owned it.

"You," Sam snarled. "I should have known it was you."

"I'll be taking that Baby now, Sam. Before you use it as another excuse to destroy the world."

"Over my dead body."

"That can be arranged."

"Dean? Who are these people?" Mary asked, body tense and ready for a fight, but still holding up her hands in a sign of submission.

"Men of Letter, British Chapter. The douchiest chapter," Dean sneered.

"We'll see how smartass you are when you have a bullet in you," the same goon grinned maliciously.

Dean spat in his face.

The goon fired his gun—

And then everything went dark.

"Go away," a familiar voice commanded. In the blink of an eye, the Men of Letters goons were gone, and standing before them was Amara.

"Hello Dean, it's been a while."

Toni brandished her knife as flames surrounded them—

Suddenly the heat was gone, Toni was gone, and only Chuck was left.

"Hi Sam."

"Chuck?" Sam's eyes widened. "You're back?"

"Yup! Just in time to meet that little one there." Chuck pointed at Sam's belly, and suddenly Sam was brutally reminded that he was very, very much in labor.

"Oh shiiiit." Sam groaned and lowered himself down to the floor. Whatever God magic he'd used, the place looked untouched, like it had never been on fire at all. "Where's… where'd they…"

"I sent them away, into the empty," Chuck waved his hand dismissively. "Amara did the same with the rest of them."

"Amara? She's here too?" Another contraction hit and he fought the urge to scream. Shit, this was moving faster than he expected. He wanted Dean, needed Dean, and was just about to ask Chuck to get him—

"Saaaaam! SAAAAAM!" Dean shouted from the hall and Sam nearly cried with relief.

"Over here. I'm fine, Dean, I'm fine," Sam yelled back. Within seconds Dean was there, holding him, kissing him all over his face and neck and checking for injuries.

"Oh thank God, thank God you're okay," Dean babbled.

"You're welcome," Chuck grinned, and Dean jumped, not having noticed another person in the room.

"H-Hi Chuck, I see you're back too."

"Oh yeah, the vacation was nice, but you know-"

"Guys this Baby is coming right now!" Sam shouted. The urge to push overwhelmed him, so he did, not really having a choice in the matter.

"Shit, we gotta get you to the hospital," Dean panicked.

"It's fine, I got this." Chuck stepped forward and kneeled between Sam's legs. "Oh yup. Gimme another push, Sam."

"Are-are you sure about this?" Dean asked.

"Is God himself delivering our Baby, Dean?" Sam groaned, squeezing Dean's hand hard enough Dean wouldn't be surprised if he wound up with at least a sprain.

"Looks like it, yup."

"Oh my gooood," Sam moaned, and it had nothing to do with the pain.

"Another hard push Sam, almost there."

Sam screamed, and the pain was so intense he wanted to die, but then—

The most beautiful sound he'd ever heard.

Maria Celeste Winchester was born on May 6, at 3:07 in the morning.

She had a full head of chestnut colored hair, a set of powerful lungs, bright rosy cheeks, and kaleidoscope eyes just like Sam's.

She was perfect.

"Oh yeah, this is some of my best work," Chuck laughed, making funny faces at the newborn infant as she slept on in his arms.

"May I?" Amara came up to Sam's bedside, seemingly out of nowhere, causing him to startle.

Sam was still a little creeped out by her, but she seemed earnest enough, and if Chuck vouched for her… "Um… sure?"

Chuck handed Maria over to Amara after showing her how to probably hold a baby. Maria yawned quietly, sucking her tiny little fist in her mouth, and the smile that bloomed on Amara's face was nothing short of human. "Brother I want one."

Chuck nearly choked on his coffee.

Life was, well, perfect.

Maria was a happy, spoiled baby, only content when held in someone's arms, not that anyone every really complied. Daddy Sam fed her bottles and Daddy Dean woke up at four in the morning to sing her back to sleep every night. Gramma Mary was always there to lend a hand. Uncle Chuck and Aunt Amara were always happy to babysit.

Sam had never been happier.

Mary bounced the now six month-old in her lap, playing peek-a-boo and laughing at the baby's toothless smiles. She wore little baby jeans and a tee shirt that said Cutest Little Bean, something that Sam and Dean would sometimes call her when she was still in his tummy, courtesy of Uncle Chuck.

"Sam?"

"Yeah?" Sam grinned, watching the two of them.

"I think it's time for me to go," Mary said, smile never breaking as she continued to play peek-a-boo.

Sam's smile, however, slipped. "W-What?"

"I can't stay here forever. I can't leave your father alone like that. I remember what it was like being there without him, and… I can't do that to him. I can't leave him alone. You know that."

"But, but, Mom, we need you." Sam's eyes started to fill with tears at the very thought of losing his mom, again, and blinked them away.

Mary shook her head sadly. "I love you boys more than anything, but you know you don't need me anymore. I taught you how get blood stains out of white shirts, you'll be fine without me."

That night, after kissing her granddaughter and her sons goodbye on the forehead, with one last I love you, I'll always be watching over you, she went into the light.

Maria was one year old and the world was still turning, despite the fact the Winchesters hadn't been hunting in almost two years.

And yet…

"There's been some omens in Ohio," Dean said nonchalantly. "Could be nothing… could be something big."

Sam grinned. "You thinkin'…?"

Dean grinned back, leaning up to kiss Sam on the lips. "I'm thinking we got work to do."

With a carseat in the back, the Impala rode again.

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