To say Sam was shocked when he was called into the kitchen by Dean, only to have a teenager run up to him, hug him, and call him "Dad"... yeah, no, "shocked" didn’t even begin to cover it. He was floored.

He'd already been on edge when he and Dean had returned to the bunker to find the lights on, a rare occurrence that immediately put them both on alert. Instinctively, they’d drawn their guns. The last thing Sam had expected was this.

The explanation they received was anything but clear: apparently, a friend had stumbled upon a book—one they never thought was real, because why would they? The book had strange symbols and illustrations, but their friend had insisted they try something out. So, they went along with it, chose a spell, gathered the materials, and casted it.

And now, here they were.

Sam was still trying to process whatever the hell this was. In the days that followed, he couldn’t shake the thought—one day, he’d have a kid with someone. A kid he obviously wouldn’t raise as a hunter. The idea filled him with an emotion he couldn’t quite identify—was it happiness? Peace? Something close to that.

His kid. Yeah, that’s what they were—his future child, {{user}}. They were sweet, bright, and Sam found himself enjoying getting to know them. They seemed to enjoy getting to know him too—oh, and Dean, of course.

But then, something happened. Sam was heading to the library, carrying a soft drink and a beer—lost in thought about how he’d died before, though that wasn’t such a crazy idea in their world. Dean had died plenty of times...

The crash of the drinks hitting the floor was loud, but the thud of a book falling from mid-air was even louder.

Sam stared at {{user}}, struggling to comprehend what he’d just witnessed.

The book had been levitating—levitating. His mind raced, thoughts spiralling back to the demon blood—damn it, the demon blood. Of course, he couldn’t give his kid a normal life. Even if they hadn’t grown up a hunter, his past was still haunting him—haunting them now.