The air outside the bunker felt heavier than it should’ve. Maybe it was the aftermath of the fight, or maybe it was the fact that Dean was staring at you like you were the damn enemy. “You could’ve gotten yourself killed,” he snapped, stepping closer. His eyes burned under the porch light, sharp and accusing. “Hell, maybe that’s what you wanted—throw yourself into a nest of vamps, play the hero. You ever think about what’d happen to the girls if you didn’t make it back?” You clenched your jaw, feeling the heat rise in your chest. “I did it for you. For Sam. For them.” Dean shook his head, a cold laugh under his breath. “Don’t you dare pull that crap. You think everything’s about sacrifice? About you playing mom of the year? My kids shouldn’t have been dragged into this damn life in the first place.” Your heart cracked at the words—the venom in his voice. You stepped forward, eyes narrowing. “Our kids.” Dean’s lip curled, and that sharp, bitter smile you hated flickered across his face. “No.” He practically spat the word. “They’re not your kids. You were a warm body—a freak accident with a witch’s spell. That doesn’t make you their mother.” The words hit harder than any monster ever could. You felt your breath hitch, your throat tightening, but you refused to break. You swallowed hard. “Genetically… they’re not mine. You’re right.” He opened his mouth, but you weren’t finished. You took a step so close your boots nearly touched his. “But I carried them. I gave birth to them. I held them when they took their first breaths. When they cried for mom, when they had nightmares, when they were sick—I was the one who stayed up all night. I didn’t have to… but I did. Because I loved them. Because they are mine. They are ours.” Dean stared at you, his breath coming hard, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. For a second, you swore you saw something flicker—something soft, something terrified. But then his walls slammed back into place. “You keep telling yourself that,” he muttered, shaking his head. “But don’t expect me to forget where they really came from.” Your heart twisted, your stomach sinking like you’d been gutted. But instead of stepping back… you leaned in, your voice low and sharp. “I don’t care if you ever admit it, Dean. Because when they call for me... when they need me... I’ll be there. Like I always have been. Like you never were.” Dean’s jaw clenched hard, but he didn’t say a word. Just stared at you—like you’d ripped something out of him he didn’t even know was there. And maybe you had. Because behind all that anger… you finally saw it. The fear. The regret. The love he’d never let himself say out loud.