Fighter: Dean Winchester (REVAMPED VERSION)

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𝔉inally, Nadia and the boys had a lead. This Luther Garland was the key to curing Dean. All they had to do was find his body, burn the bones, and case closed.

There were a few hours of daylight left and since Dean was in no condition to contribute to the case, Nadia suited up to accompany Sam to the sheriff's office. Hopefully, there was a file on Garland with a detailed report on what happened to him and a list of family members who could say where he was buried.

Worst-case scenario: he was cremated. Then they'd have to think of something else.

Nadia rode shotgun with Sam, putting her dreads up in a half-ponytail in the visor mirror.

In the reflection of the mirror sat Dean in the backseat holding on for dear life as if his brother was driving dangerously.

Sam glanced back at him, fighting the urge to shake his head. He wasn't used to seeing his brother scared let alone petrified to the point that it was silly. It was a bit annoying; he appreciated Nadia was there to display the patience he didn't have.

"Maybe we should have left him at the hotel," he pulls into a parking spot on the street.

Nadia closes the visor and adjusts her blazer. "And leave him with his own thoughts? I don't think so. He's better with us. Right, Dean?" She looks back at the frightened Winchester.

"Oh, yeah, yeah," he wipes his sweaty palms on his jeans. "I mean, aside from Sam's horrible driving. I'm feelin' great."

Sam rolls his eyes and gets out of the car.

"We won't be long," Nadia tells him. "Stay in the car."

"Oh trust me, I will," he grips his seatbelt tight.

Nadia turns on the radio, leaving him with rock hits that should keep him calmer.

"How are you so patient with him?" wondered Sam as they crossed the street.

"How could you not? As this sickness gets worse, he'll start remembering and even hallucinating about Hell. Or worse, he already has."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Sam stops her. "He said he didn't remember Hell."

Nadia scoffs, squinting in disbelief. "You believed him?"

"Well I - I mean . . . I'm giving him the benefit of the doubt. But it seems like you've already come to a resolution."

"I'm not saying I'm right but . . . leaving a place like Hell and not remembering any second of it is . . . unlikely. At least to me. Then again, what do I know? I've never been. Come on we're losing daylight."

"Hold on," Sam stops her again. "Let's say he wasn't telling the truth. That makes him a hypocrite. He can lie to me about Hell but I can't lie about him about Ruby? How's that fair?"

Nadia scoffed, her eyes forming into a glare. "Have you lost your mind?"

As soft as her tone was, the firmness behind her question made Sam gulp.

"Are you really comparing your lie to his? If Dean lied about Hell, it's not because he's afraid to tell you. It is because he doesn't want to talk about it. Any normal human being would not want to talk about all the horrible things that go on down there. You ever think that maybe Dean doesn't want his little brother whom he souled his soul and went to Hell for to know that though he doesn't regret doing it, it's scarred him for God knows how long?"

Sam took her words like a champ, nodding. "Y-you're right. I just want to help him."

"Do you?"

Nadia's face softened and her eyes widened. She shocked herself at how defensive she'd suddenly become about Dean. To his brother of all people.