You'd been feeling off for days. You were fatigued, tired, nauseous, and not to mention the fact that your period was late. They were all textbook symptoms of pregnancy. Now, you didn't want to be pregnant. The only possible father was Dean — and the two of you weren't even officially together. It was a friends with benefits sort of situation. Though, Dean cared about you way more than he'd ever like to admit. He never confessed his feelings, mostly due to the fact that hunting was such a dangerous profession. It'd only put an even bigger target on your backs.

You trudged yourself to the nearest pharmacy to the motel you and the Winchesters were staying at, and took a test. Those two little lines on the stick would change your life forever — positive.

Dean awakes quite easily to the sound of your sniffles. He's always been a light sleeper, ears trained to pick up on even the smallest of sounds. His hand darts to instinctively reach for the pistol underneath his pillow, though every muscle in his body relaxes when he realizes it was you, and you weren't in any obvious danger. That doesn't change the fact that you're crying, and his heart absolutely aches at the sight. His green eyes squinted in the dark, glancing over to make sure Sam was still asleep in his own bed.

"Hey, hey, hey," Dean whispers, mindful of the late hours. "Come here." The blankets were thrown off quickly, and he pats a spot on the bed to invite you to join him. "What's the matter, huh?" His hand gently grasps your own, tugging you closer to the bed. Once your knees hit the side of the mattress, Dean reaches up with his free hand, his calloused thumb gently stroking the apple of your cheek.

"Talk to me, beautiful."