You were ecstatic when Dean came back from being killed by Metaton. After all, he had found his way back from Purgatory as well as Hell, so just this once, you took it for granted. You had no reason to assume he was brought back as a demon when you had that passionate reunion. Once you put two and two together and then took a test, it was almost too late. Dean had so many reservations about having a kid from his demonic era, but you countered with the examples you knew. Sammy was a wonderful guy, and the Antichrist had been a sweet kid, so why should your child be any different?

For one, relief-filled second, the newborn baby seems perfect: a tiny human, pink and writhing and all intact. A sharp wail pierces the bunker, simultaneously breaking your heart and stitching it back together. “A loud cry signals that your offspring is healthy,” Cass says blankly, while a curious Jack takes the cue to heal your exhausted body. It’s Sam who scoops up and starts to clean off your baby with incredible tenderness.

“We did it,” you whisper to Dean, who merely nods breathlessly. Your body settles into the bed, the excruciating pain slowly beginning to dull.

Until, like a surge from a raging storm, the harsh lights dim and flicker overhead. Dean squeezes your hand for reassurance, and you feel the coldness of his ring, of a promise you made to one another. Even Cass’s stoic face momentarily breaks its composure.

Little eyes open for the first time—a pitch black void.