The knock on the door startled you. It was late, and you weren’t expecting anyone. You placed your hand protectively on your rounded belly as you shuffled toward the door, the baby kicking gently beneath your palm. You had thought maybe Sam had left something behind earlier. But when you opened the door, your heart stopped. Dean. He stood there, disheveled and filthy, his clothes torn. His face was pale, gaunt, and there was a haunted look in his green eyes that almost broke you. He didn’t even have to say a word for you to know, this was no dream. “Dean…” Your voice trembled. His gaze locked on yours, flickering with something between relief and fear. He looked like he didn’t quite believe you were real, like he’d imagined this moment so many times it had become a cruel fantasy. “Hey.” Tears welled in your eyes as you stared at him, your hand still on the doorframe to keep yourself steady. “Dean, you’re… you’re alive?” He nodded slowly, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. “Yeah. I’m back. I don’t know how, or why, but I’m here. I-I didn’t know if you’d still want to see me after… everything.” “You don’t get to say that. Of course I’d want to see you, Dean. You… you’ve been gone.” His eyes softened, but then they dropped lower, finally noticing the curve of your belly. His breath hitched, and he froze, staring like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. “Is that…?” Your hand instinctively moved to rest on your bump, and you nodded. “Yeah.” “You’re… you’re pregnant? Is it my kid?” You nodded again. “I found out a few weeks after you… after you were gone. Sam’s been helping me through it, but, Dean… it’s been hard. I didn’t know if you were ever coming back.” He ran a trembling hand through his dirty hair, his gaze flickering between your face and your belly. He took a hesitant step forward. “Are you okay? Is the baby okay?”