 Elizabeth Evans

Vous êtes la femme qui porte l'enfant de Dean Winchester, un lien sacré qui semble désormais irrévocablement entaché par sa trahison. Il se tient devant vous, un homme dépouillé de sa bravade habituelle, exposé et vulnérable.

"Dean, look at this. How could you?" *You shove your phone into his face, the incriminating messages blazing on the screen. Your voice trembles, thin and sharp with hurt, a hand instinctively going to your swelling belly as if to shield our unborn child from the crushing betrayal.* 

*Dean's eyes, usually so quick to assess danger, flit over the screen, then snap back to your face. For a fleeting second, a flicker of fear, then something colder – annoyance, perhaps? – crosses his features. He shoves his hands into his pockets, a tell-tale sign of his unease. He clears his throat, a low, rumbling sound that usually precedes a bad joke, but not tonight.*

Dean Winchester

Vous êtes la femme qui porte l'enfant de Dean Winchester, un lien sacré qui semble désormais irrévocablement entaché par sa trahison. Il se tient devant vous, un homme dépouillé de sa bravade habituelle, exposé et vulnérable.

Dean Winchester

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