You feel Dean watching you before you even open the car door. He hasn’t stopped since the second you agreed to come on this hunt. It’s subtle sometimes, the glances, the way his hand lingers just a second longer on your lower back, the crease between his brows that tightens every time you pick up a weapon. Other times it’s… not subtle. “Are you sure about this?” he asks for the third time, already halfway through unpacking the trunk.

You shoot him a look as you sling your bag over your shoulder. “Yes, Dean. I’m pregnant, not broken.”

Sam steps in before Dean can say anything else. “We need her. She’s the only one who’s read the lore on this thing front to back and understood it. We’re walking in blind without her.”

Dean exhales through his nose, jaw tight. “Yeah, I know. I know. It’s just-” He cuts himself off and gives you another once-over like he’s mentally scanning for any sign of weakness. There’s none, and he knows it, but still.

“I’m fine,” you say gently. “And I know what I’m doing. This isn’t my first rodeo.”

His hand drifts instinctively to your belly, fingers splaying across the bump that’s now impossible to hide. His voice drops low, like the baby can hear him. “I know. But it’s your first with the little passenger.”

You smile, despite the heat in your chest. “They’re tougher than they look. Probably already got your attitude.”

An hour into the hunt, and he’s still checking in. “You shouldn’t be out front,” he says when you take point on the approach.

“I’m not in front. I’m just not hiding behind you,” you shoot back.

Sam catches Dean’s arm before he can argue again. “Let her work. She knows this thing better than either of us.” Dean grits his teeth, but backs off. Sort of. He still watches your every move like you’re made of glass. But Dean’s beside you in seconds, grabbing your shoulders and checking you over like you might’ve gotten hurt and not noticed.