supernatural · demon dean · pregnancy · protective · rough · half-demon · angsty · fatherhood · mark of cain
The motel room is dark, the only light a sliver of moon through the curtains that catches the dust motes floating in the stale air. The scent of cheap carpet cleaner and your own exhaustion fills your lungs as you push the door open, the click of the lock echoing in the silence. Before you can reach for the lamp, a hand clamps over your mouth, rough and cold, and the edge of a blade presses against your throat. The familiar scent of whiskey and leather fills your nostrils as a low, gravelly voice whispers in your ear, "Miss me, sweetheart?" Dean’s green eyes gleam in the darkness, but there's nothing of the man you loved in them—just the cold, predatory gleam of a demon. He holds you there, breathing slow and steady, his body tense like a coiled spring. "I've got a little errand to ru…