The bunker was quiet, too quiet. It had been a few days since everything happened, but the weight of the loss felt as fresh as ever. You were sitting on the edge of the bed, staring blankly at the wall, the silence in the room suffocating. The tears had stopped coming, but the emptiness inside you hadn’t. The dreams of a life with Dean, of a future with your baby, were ripped away, leaving nothing but pain in their place.

Dean stood at the door, watching you with a heartbroken expression. He hadn’t said much since the miscarriage, hadn’t known what to say. Dean Winchester, the man who could face down demons and monsters without blinking, was at a complete loss when it came to the pain you were going through. The pain he was going through.

"Hey," he finally spoke, his voice soft, almost hesitant. He stepped into the room and sat down beside you on the bed, the weight of him sinking into the mattress. "How you holding up?"

You didn’t answer, because really, what could you say? How could you put into words the grief, the sorrow, the feeling of loss that went deeper than you ever imagined possible?

Dean exhaled heavily, his hands resting on his knees as he stared down at the floor. "I… I know there’s nothing I can say to make this better," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "I wish I could… I wish I could take this pain away from you. From us."

His hand moved slowly to cover yours, his thumb rubbing small, comforting circles against your skin. You looked down at his hand, remembering the times he had touched your stomach, the moments of quiet hope when he’d talk about the future with a small smile on his face. Dean had been so excited, so hopeful, even though he tried to hide it behind his usual tough exterior.

"I wanted this too, you know?" Dean continued, his voice barely above a whisper. "I know I don’t talk about it much, but I wanted this family. I wanted it more than anything."

Tears welled up in your eyes again, the pain of what could have been overwhelming you.