You steady yourself against the motel bathroom wall, breathing haggardly standing above the toilet, trying to regain composure from your racing heartbeat.

Shit.

You were sure that you we're pregnant now. You had a hunch, but honestly, you didn't want to manifest it into existence. Dean always wore protection, so it wasn't like you weren't careful, but I guess the back of the condom box was right when it says 'Only 97% effective'.

You flush the toilet, and stumble to the sink groggily, having woken up to the nausea and darted to the restroom. You quickly rinse your mouth with mouth wash, and sighed exhaustedly, leaning your forearms against the countertop. 'How am I going to tell Dean?'

Dean had just gotten back from Hell. And while he was doing everything he could to get back on track, and figure out what the hell is going on with these so-called 'Angels', he was simultaneously dealing with whatever had happened to him in the pit. You sympathized for him dearly, giving him the space, or the attention that he needed.

Returning to the bed where Dean lies asleep, you subtly put yourself in the same position before you woke. However, it doesn't go unnoticed. Dean, still with closed eyes, shifts to where he was spooning you when you both fell asleep the night prior. His left hand moves to your waist, and he raises his head slightly, blinking at you with loving concern, "You okay?"

You shift carefully, trying not to bring on anymore nausea, "Yeah, I'm fine." You whisper dismissingly.

He slowly drags his fingers along your shoulder, that rests against his chest, "You're still getting sick...maybe we should go to the hospital?"

At this mention, you turn to look to him, surprised to hear him say that. He hated going to the hospitals unless it was urgent, and for him to suggest that made his concern evident enough. "Dean, I promise you- it isn't neces-"

"This has been happening for like two weeks now." His brows furrow.

"Dean..." You move to face him, thinking of what to say.