Fighter: Dean Winchester (REVAMPED VERSION)

lαzαrυѕ rιѕιɴɢ;pαrт тwo

It was a ten-hour drive to Bobby's in Sioux Falls, South Dakota. Nadia was ridden with anxiety for most of the ride. Normally, her medication lasted all day, calming her mind and filtering out any voices that weren't her own. But today, the voice that led her to Dean was still there, and it was more distorted than ever.

Sometimes it was loud, then soft. The words broke up like a skipping CD, a glitching voice that took hours to decipher.

"𝙋𝙧𝙤𝙩𝙚𝙘𝙩 𝘿𝙚𝙖𝙣 𝙒𝙞𝙣𝙘𝙝𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧."

"𝙃𝙚 𝙢𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙗𝙚 𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙩𝙚𝙘𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙖𝙩 𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙘𝙤𝙨𝙩."

"𝙄𝙩'𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙙𝙪𝙩𝙮."

"𝙊𝙣𝙚 𝙡𝙞𝙛𝙚 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙖𝙠𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙢𝙖𝙣𝙮."

"One life for the sake of many," Nadia mouthed, her brow furrowing as she struggled to understand the meaning. What did it mean? What did Dean need protection from?

It had been years since she'd heard voices, let alone one that seemed so specific, so determined. It felt almost... important. The kind of message that couldn't be ignored.

Dean must have sensed something was off. Even though Nadia insisted she was fine, he saw through the act. She tried to keep her thoughts to herself, afraid of how he might react—afraid that she might be crazy or on the verge of breaking down.

A yawn escaped her lips as she gripped the steering wheel tighter. Her hand ached from the strain, and her eyes fought to stay open. She could feel her body craving rest, but her mind wouldn't allow it. Sleep had never come easy for her, especially not with the voice in her head threatening to spiral her into madness if she didn't manage to stop it.

With a sigh, Nadia reached across the front seat to the glove compartment. She tried to do it quietly, not wanting to wake Dean, but as she fumbled for the bottle, he jolted awake, grabbing her wrist as though she were a threat.

"Sorry, I just need something out of the..." She started, her words stumbling out.

Dean blinked a few times, still groggy, then blushed in embarrassment and released her. "Sorry."

"Don't apologize," Nadia said quickly, offering a small, reassuring smile. "After everything you've been through, you get a pass."

Dean grimaced, his mind likely flashing back to memories from Hell.

"Put these back for me, would you?" Nadia asked, passing him the pill bottle after she took her own dose.

"Olanzapine," Dean read the label. "You're supposed to take one a day?"

"Yeah," Nadia nodded, letting out a breath of relief as she settled back in her seat. The tension in her chest loosened, just slightly.

"What are these for?" Dean asked, genuinely curious, his tone light.

"They, uh... calm me down. Clear my head." Nadia's voice faltered, then she chuckled dryly, a little embarrassed. 

Dean raised an eyebrow, smirking. "What like 'happy pills,'?" 

"No," she corrected, her voice quieter now. "They're antipsychotics."

Dean's expression softened, though he was still confused. "Antipsychotics? You mean... like, you've been hearing voices?"

"Yeah," Nadia took a deep breath, her fingers tightening around the edge of the seat. "When I was six, I started hearing voices. Not violent ones, just... there. And on top of that, I had this imaginary best friend. She didn't feel imaginary to me, though. I can't even remember her name anymore, or most of my childhood, honestly. It's like it's all gone. But I remember believing in her way more than any kid should. I wasn't possessed, but... I ended up in the psych ward for a while. One pill a day keeps the voices and delusions away."