Fighter: Dean Winchester (REVAMPED VERSION)

мeтαмorpнoѕιѕ;pαrт ғιve

Nadia pulled up across the street from Jack's house in a beat-up '97 Oldsmobile Cutlass that she had hot-wired back at the motel. She parked behind Travis' truck, grabbed her flamethrower, and got out of the car.

Travis' truck was empty, and so was the Impala. The lights in the house were off—seemingly no one was home, but she knew better.

Taking the cautious approach, she slipped into the backyard through the gate. Peering through the patio door, she could see into the living room.

Dean lay face down on the coffee table, unconscious with blood trickling from his head.

Jack was sitting beside him, blood covering his mouth, his skin pale and mottled with veins that looked almost worm-like.

For a second, Nadia thought Jack had bitten Dean, but then she noticed another body on the floor. It was almost unrecognizable, practically a carcass. It had to be Travis or Sam. Considering Travis had threatened to kill them, it could only be him.

If Dean and Travis were in the living room, then where was Sam? He had to be alive, or else Jack would've eaten Dean by now.

Nadia searched for a way inside without drawing attention. On the side of the house, she spotted a window to the bathroom.

She was lucky—it was unlocked.

Nadia crawled through quietly, using the toilet as a stool before closing the window behind her. She stood still, listening for any signs of movement.

Somehow, even with the door open, Jack didn't hear her. He was too busy talking to Sam.

"Dean?"

Nadia could hear Sam's panicked voice through the door, muffled by what sounded like rattling. He was locked up.

"Dean can't come to the phone right now," Jack's voice cracked.

"Jack!" Sam slammed his hands against the wall, furious. "If you hurt him, I swear to God!"

"Calm down!" Jack growled. "Your brother's alive. But not if you don't calm down."

Nadia allowed herself to relax, and Sam did the same. She tiptoed out of the bathroom and into the foyer.

"Alright, Jack. Listen," Sam tried to reason. "Open the door. We can figure this out, okay?"

Jack scoffed, his voice heavy with pain. "We'll have ourselves a little brainstorming session."

Through the railing, Nadia got a closer look at Jack—not just his transformation, but the devastation in his bloodshot eyes.

"Jack. Please."

Sam's voice came from nearby, locked in the coat closet.

"I don't think so. After what you did?" Jack's tone was bitter.

"What? What are you talking about?" Sam asked, confused.

As Jack continued to talk, Nadia quietly circled around the foyer into the dining room.

"You sent your friend here. He tried to burn my wife alive."

"What? Why?"

Nadia froze in the kitchen, hearing Jack hesitate.

"He didn't say," he lied. "I guess psychopaths don't have to explain themselves."

"Listen to me. You gotta believe me. My brother and I would never have hurt her, okay?"

Nadia slowly made her way around the corner into the living room.

Jack was in her sights. He dipped his finger in Dean's blood and licked it off eagerly. "Oh, God, I'm so hungry."