Dean nods, letting go to push both hands through his own hair, fingers clamping as if to stop himself flying apart. "She's gonna leave. She's gonna leave, what are the odds she gets to stay? Thirty four fucking weeks, she's gonna go and the baby will go, and I can't do this anymore."

His eyes are getting too wide again, breaths too quick, and Dean scrabbles at his already wide collar, trying to loosen it against a pinch that feels like it's strangling him to death.