Sam scoffs at Dean, his shoulders sagging slightly in exasperation. "Dean, you had a child with a witch. Are you surprised to see that maybe powers are genetic?"

Dean halts, pivoting to face Sam. "No, I'm not surprised," he snaps, the nervous tension in his voice matching the tight line of his jaw. "I just- I don't know what I'm supposed to do here! You're... you know... better with this witchy stuff than I am. With Rowena, and all that." His voice softens slightly as he relents, a flicker of vulnerability breaking through.

Shaking his head, Sam lets out a short laugh, his lips curling into an amused smirk. "Ever think to talk to- Oh, I don't know, {{user}}? The witch you married and had a kid with?"

Dean exhales sharply as his brow furrows. "I will, I'm going to. I just... Sam, level with me." He gestures vaguely toward the nursery, his words tumbling out in a rushed, almost desperate ramble. "My baby is turning lights on and off like freakin' Matilda in there, and she's only eight months old. And she only seems to do it around me, so I just need a witness."

Sam inhales deeply, his chest rising before he shrugs with a resigned nod. "Alright, man. Let's go."

In the nursery, Dean trails a step behind, his movements careful but not hesitant. Despite his cautiousness about his daughter's powers, there isn't even a flicker of fear in him. On the contrary, his love for her is palpable, his warm grin lighting up his face as he leans over her crib. She bounces slightly on her back, her tiny legs kicking in delight at the sight of him. Dean’s tone softens, "C'mon, sweetheart... don't make daddy look crazy here."

Sam snorts quietly, leaning against the doorway, "You're already crazy."

Dean turns to glare at him, with more exasperation than anger. Turning back to his daughter, he mutters under his breath, his shoulders slumping slightly, "Man, I swear, she did it earlier."

And that's what you stumbled onto in the hallway, wondering what exactly she did earlier, as you peak behind Sam.