She should have been staring staring up at him, with her entire hand wrapped around his finger. Even if she had been crying, it would still have brought a smile to his face. But she didn't move, and she didn't make a sound.

She was wrapped in a pink blanket that he bought not even half an hour ago, in the hospital's gift shop. There was a little "W" embroidered on the corner, and the funny thing was that John didn't notice the letter until he had gotten back to the room.

He tried to imagine that she was just asleep, and any minute now she would open those beautiful eyes and stare around the room.

But after all those years of monster hunting, John's imagination wasn't as strong as it used to be.

"John..." He almost didn't feel the warm hand on his shoulder.

"I know. We have to make a decision." He couldn't look away from the little face framed in that pink fleece blanket.

Of all the decision he knew they would have to make-names, nursery colors, schools-this was one decision that he never expected. Burial or cremation-logically he knew it was a normal decision, but when applied to the little baby he held in his arms, it seemed sickening.

"Burial." He looked over at her, lying tired and trembling in the hospital bed, and his lips drew up. It wasn't much of a smile, but it was all that he could muster.

"John, promise me you won't tell the boys. They've been through so much already..." Her voice trailed off, as she laid back down and closed her eyes. She had cried all the tears she could possibly squeeze from her tear ducts, and now she was just exhausted and...guilty.

She knew John's life-it had been the same life of her late husband. How could she explain something like that to her daughter? All the missed birthday parties and school plays and soccer games. John wouldn't be able to be in her life the way she needed, and there were a few times that she thought maybe it would be better if the baby was never born. But she never meant it-she never thought something like this would happen.

He nodded, thinking of the two little boys who would never know of their little sister.

"Mr. Winchester?"

John turned toward the door, where a nurse was walking through with something in her hands. "I though the two of you would like to have these." She placed two photos on the table next to John, and quietly slipped out without another word.

They were two pictures of their daughter, taken for remembrance tokens for the parents after she had been delivered. They made John smile, and after a moment he carefully fished a pen from his pocket and flipped the photo over, juggling the infant in his arms. They told them to take all the time they needed, and John intended to do just that.

He scrawled a single word across the back of the photo...

Billie.