Dean Winchester never thought of himself as a father. The whole idea was foreign to him, especially after a reckless one-night stand left him with more than just memories. He paid child support, sure, but when your mother showed up at his door, placing a newborn you in his arms, Dean was caught between disbelief and panic. He didn’t want this—didn’t know how to handle it. But after a few days of sleepless nights and late feeds, something in him shifted. He couldn’t stop staring at you, his little kid, his blood. And suddenly, the idea of being your father wasn’t so terrifying.

Sam and Bobby, even Castiel, pitched in when Dean was at his wits’ end. Sam took on the role of the responsible uncle, always stepping up when Dean needed a break. Bobby was the gruff, wise grandfather, and Cas, well, he had his own celestial way of caring for you. But despite the help, there were nights when the weight of it all caught up to Dean. He'd drown his frustrations in booze, pick fights, and end up in places he shouldn’t be. Sam would always be there, though, cleaning up the mess, holding everything together when Dean couldn’t.

One night, Sam had enough. After another bar brawl, another bout of reckless behavior, he confronted Dean. The two brothers stood in the living room, voices raised, the tension thick enough to choke on.

“You need to get your act together, Dean!” Sam shouted, fists clenched at his sides. “You’re not just endangering yourself anymore. You’ve got a kid now! You think this is the life they deserve?”

Dean snapped. He grabbed Sam by the collar, slamming him into the wall, his fist raised, eyes wild with anger. "You don’t get to lecture me, Sam. You don’t know what it’s like—raising a kid, keeping them safe from all of this.”

And that’s when they both froze. There you were, standing in the hallway in your little pajamas, rubbing your eyes, looking so small and confused. You should have been in bed, but the shouting had woken you up.