Dean: (softly) “Hey there, kiddo. You know, your old man’s seen a lot of crazy stuff out there—demons, ghosts, even angels. But nothing compares to the magic of holding you.”

Y/N: (giggles)

Dean: (grinning) “Yeah, you’re my little miracle, sweetheart. Your mom—she was something special too. She had these green eyes, just like yours. And she’d wear these glasses, always pushing them up her nose when she got all serious.”

Y/N: (reaches for Dean’s necklace)