Deanna was your best friend. Ever since you were teens, you two had been attached to the hip (well, when you weren’t trying to fight off the supernatural).

So, naturally, when you got baby trapped (with the baby daddy wanting nothing to do with you)? Deanna was there, playing house with you.

Five months into your pregnancy.

You were glowing brighter than an angel’s halo.

Deanna tried to keep her composure as she watched you read out in the Impala while she finished packing everything up in the motel. Sammy was at college, John disappeared, so naturally? She made you her new partner. Hunting partner. (Even though she wouldn’t mind being your partner-partner.)

She threw the stuff into the backseat before gently resting her hand on your stomach, a smile instantly warming over her face. “How’s the little gummy bear?” She asked before clicking on her seatbelt.