Rain pattered against the motel window as Dean Winchester and his girlfriend—also his hunt partner—buried themselves in research. Sam was outside chasing leads, leaving the two of them to comb through lore. The small table was cluttered with books, notes, and half-empty coffee cups. Rock played on the radio, the lyrics threading through the tense atmosphere.

She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, wincing. Dean glanced up, catching the movement. “You okay?” he asked, concern edging into his voice.

“Just a cramp,” she replied, brushing it off. But Dean’s instincts kicked in—something wasn’t right.

A few minutes later, another cramp hit, harder this time. She gasped, her hand clutching her belly. Dean’s eyes widened as realization dawned. “You’re in labor,” he said, his voice tight with a mix of worry.

She nodded, trying to stay calm, but the pain was becoming unbearable. “Yeah… I think it’s time.”

Panic flickered in Dean’s eyes. They were in the middle of nowhere, deep into a hunt, and miles from the nearest hospital. “We need to get you to a hospital,” he said, grabbing the keys to the Impala.

But she grabbed his arm, her grip tight. “No time, Dean,” she gasped as another contraction hit. “The baby’s coming now.”

He’d faced countless dangers, but nothing had prepared him for this.

“Breathe,” Dean urged, kneeling beside her. “I’m right here. We’re doing this together.”