Fighter: Dean Winchester (REVAMPED VERSION)

ιтѕ тнe ɢreαт pυмpĸιɴ, ѕαм wιɴcнeѕтer;ғoυr

Nadia and the boys left the motel room, their determination clouded by frustration and disappointment. The moment they stepped outside, they stopped in their tracks. The Impala was splattered with eggs, a gooey mess running down its glossy black paint.

Dean's jaw clenched as his lips twisted into a pout. His hands immediately went to his hips as he surveyed the damage. "Astronaut!" he bellowed, his voice echoing through the lot.

Sam, already halfway to the car, smirked at Dean's reaction. "Guess one of your candy-deprived trick-or-treaters got their revenge," he quipped as he climbed into the passenger seat.

Nadia, leaning against the side of the car, crossed her arms and looked away, too lost in her thoughts to even ask who Dean was yelling about.

Dean's tone softened when he turned to her. "You alright?"

She exhaled deeply, her voice steady but tinged with unease. "I'm an angel. Or half-angel, I guess."

Dean froze mid-step, his eyes narrowing in disbelief. "Wait, what? Castiel confirmed that?"

"More or less." She nodded, her expression unreadable. "Uriel called my mom a traitor. And when that guy broke in, he sniffed me, Dean. He sniffed me and asked me what I was. The crazy part is...I know what I am, and at the same time, I don't. That's probably the only thing Uriel was right about in there."

Dean tilted his head slightly, concern flashing across his face. "Did you ask Cas?"

"He's busy. And honestly, I'm not sure he could tell me much, anyway." Nadia paused, her voice growing colder. "When I brought up what he told me about reaching my full potential, Uriel scolded him. I get the feeling I was never supposed to know. Not about me being an angel, not about my mom. I don't think the angels want me anywhere near their business."

"And what do you say to that?"

She pressed her lips together, the weight of everything settling on her. Then, with a spark of defiance, she shrugged. "I think that's too damn bad."

Dean couldn't help the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Damn right."

She pushed herself off the car and climbed into the back seat. Dean watched her for a second longer, a mix of admiration and something deeper stirring in him, before shaking it off and sliding into the driver's seat.

Sam sat quietly, his fingers fiddling with the hex bag.

"What?" Dean asked, catching his brother's expression.

"Nothing." Sam shrugged but then chuckled softly. "I just thought they'd be different."

"Who, the angels?"

"Yeah."

Dean raised his eyebrows and nodded knowingly. "Well, I tried to tell ya."

Sam shook his head, still trying to process. "I mean...I thought they'd be righteous."

"They are righteous," Dean replied after a moment, glancing at Nadia in the rearview mirror. "That's kinda the problem. Ain't nothing more dangerous than some a-hole who thinks he's on a holy mission."

Sam let out a heavy sigh, conceding Dean's point but unable to hide his disillusionment. "But, I mean...this is God. And Heaven. This is what I've been praying to?"

Dean smirked slightly. "Look, man, I know you're into the whole God thing. You know, Jesus on a tortilla and all that. But just 'cause there's a couple of bad apples doesn't mean the whole barrel's rotten. For all we know, God hates these jerks too. Don't give up on the big guy, is all I'm saying. Babe Ruth was a dick, but baseball's still a beautiful game."