Fighter: Dean Winchester (REVAMPED VERSION)

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While the boys were at the high school, Nadia stayed behind to recover from her candy-fueled stomachache. She sprawled across the motel couch, scrolling through books and online sources in search of more information on Samhain. Despite her efforts, she didn't uncover anything new—certainly nothing about him blowing up an entire town. Frustration gnawed at her as the hours crawled by.

When Sam and Dean returned, they looked both irritated and intrigued, their suits slightly rumpled from their time at the high school.

"How'd it go?" Nadia asked, sitting up with mild interest.

"Interesting," Sam replied, loosening his tie. "We talked to her art teacher, Don—the one she got into that violent altercation with."

Dean flopped into a chair, running a hand over his face. "Turns out Tracy's not just your average rebellious babysitter. She's a freakin' psycho Picasso."

Nadia raised an eyebrow. "Care to elaborate?"

Sam set his laptop bag down and leaned against the table. "Her artwork was... disturbing, to say the least. Pages covered in cryptic symbols and grotesque drawings—her murdering people, detailed gore, that kind of thing. Apparently, Don called her work 'disturbing' and 'inappropriate.' That's what set her off."

Dean scoffed. "I'd say he was being generous."

Sam continued, pulling out his laptop. "One of the symbols she drew matches the one on the Celtic coin from the hex bag. It's connected to Samhain rituals."

"So, where is she now?" Nadia asked, standing to stretch.

"Don said she's emancipated and has her own place," Dean answered. "We checked her apartment, but it was empty. No sign of her."

Sam sighed. "She's probably on the move. We're going to need to hit the road again to track her down."

Dean stood, brushing off his jacket. "But before we do..." He grabbed a grocery bag from the table and handed it to Nadia.

Nadia, still stretched out on the couch with a book, gave him a confused look. "Dean, I don't think I can eat any more candy."

"It's not candy," Dean replied, a smug grin on his face. "It's somethin' that'll help you feel better."

Curious, Nadia sat up and peeked into the bag. She couldn't help but laugh when she pulled out a bottle of Pepto-Bismol and a heating pad. "You're kidding me," she said, a wide grin spreading across her face.

Even Sam looked surprised, his eyebrows raising in silent approval. It was so unlike Dean—but in the best way possible.

"Girl at the counter said this stuff works wonders," Dean said, clearly proud of himself. "Oh, and you can use the heating pad for cramps, you know, when it's that time of the month." He added this last part with an air of confidence, as if he'd cracked the code to life's mysteries.

Nadia's cheeks hurt from smiling so hard. "Thanks, Dean."

"We need you tonight, so rest up," Dean said, patting her lightly on the leg before heading for the door. "Let's go, Sammy."

Sam gave her a small smile as he followed Dean out. "Feel better."

Nadia leaned back against the couch, still smiling as she stared at the heating pad in her hands. She popped open the Pepto-Bismol, downed a dose, and plugged in the heating pad. Within minutes, the soothing warmth eased her stomachache, and the exhaustion from the day finally caught up to her. She drifted into a light, restless sleep.

Her dreams were fragmented, a whirlwind of memories and whispers.

"There are over five hundred seals, but only sixty-six need to be broken," her mother's voice echoed faintly.