Fighter: Dean Winchester (REVAMPED VERSION)

αre yoυ тнere God? ιт'ѕ мe deαɴ wιɴcнeѕтer;pαrт ғιve

It was one of those nights—Nadia was exhausted, but sleep wouldn't come. Her mind was too full, too chaotic. Her mother, especially. The face she had seen earlier wasn't really Vanessa, but it still stirred up old feelings of guilt—feelings she thought she'd buried long ago.

Now, the apocalypse was on the horizon, and memories of her mother were resurfacing. She hadn't been able to forget them entirely, but she had tried to push them to the back of her mind. Her mother had never just read her the lore; she'd *taught* her.

Nadia couldn't quite recall all the specifics, but she knew the information was there, locked in the darker corners of her mind. She didn't understand why her mother had shared such knowledge with her.

What was a child supposed to do with the knowledge of an impending apocalypse?

Nadia had so many questions and, at the same time, didn't want to know the answers. Her life had already been difficult enough; diving into this mess felt like opening a can of worms she wasn't sure she could close again. She was here to fight, but she hoped to keep her personal life out of it as much as possible.

If she could.

She gazed up at the stars from the bed of her truck, lost in thought. She was so deep in her own head that she didn't hear Dean approach until his voice cut through the silence.

"You okay?"

Nadia looked up at him, blinking as if snapping out of a trance. "Yeah. I, uh, talked to my dad. They were on a camping trip. No signal. But they're fine."

Dean raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. "I didn't ask about your family. I asked if you were *okay.*"

She shrugged, trying to brush it off. "Me? I will be."

Nadia extended her hand, and Dean pulled her to her feet.

"So," she said, standing up straight, "is this the part where you ask what happened to my mother?"

Dean hesitated for just a second. "You don't have to tell me."

"No, it's okay," Nadia said, her voice a little softer now. "I think I need to... get it out. It's been a minute."

She paused, eyes drifting back to the stars as she took a deep breath, searching for the right words.

"As you know, I was born into the life," she started, her voice quiet but steady. "By the time I was three, I knew the basics—salt lines, holy water, flickering lights, sulfur... the whole gig. Since Dad was always on the road, Mom and I had a strict protocol. If we sensed even the slightest danger, we went to the attic, laid down the salt, grabbed the holy water, and waited until the coast was clear."

Nadia swallowed hard, trying to keep the emotion in check. "I was five at the time. It was an ordinary day. Dad was on the road, I had a good day at school, and Mom was still in her scrubs, cooking dinner. I was in my room, playing with my toys. I knew evil was real, but I had that innocent obliviousness, you know? Like, bad things happened to other people, not to me. Not when my dad saved people for a living."

Tears welled up in her eyes. She took a shaky breath and continued, her voice trembling.

"The lights started flickering. And then, there was a storm outside. For the first time, I felt it—danger. Evil. I ran out of my room to get my mom, and I got to the top of the stairs when she yelled my name in a way that made my blood run cold. 'Hide,' she told me. So, I did. My mind was racing—I didn't know if demons were coming for me or what. I just pulled the attic stairs down, climbed up, and barely got it closed behind me. I laid down the salt and hid in the corner with a flask of holy water."