When Dean Winchester finds himself at the mercy of Bella Talbot, desperate for information that might save his soul, he crosses paths with Nadia Turner-the strong-willed, fiercely independent daughter of hunter Rufus Turner. Though the connection be...
Though there was a possibility that it wouldn't work, it was all they had.
Sam and Anna paced the small barn, their footsteps heavy with uncertainty. Nadia and Dean sat quietly on a pile of hay nearby, the soft rustle of straw the only sound breaking the silence.
Nadia could feel Dean's nervous energy radiating from him. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye and noticed his leg shaking, restless like he was fighting against some invisible storm. She knew better than to push him to talk. He'd been through Hell—literally—and it was hard to shake that kind of trauma. It was difficult to believe the angels were bluffing when he'd already been to Hell once, and the haunting memories from that experience clung to him like a shadow.
Dean's nerves were palpable. His leg bounced up and down in a rapid, almost rhythmic movement. Nadia placed her hand on his knee, offering him some silent comfort.
"Hey, babe?" Dean's voice broke through the tension, and Nadia turned to meet his gaze. He reached into his jacket pocket, his fingers fumbling slightly, as if trying to steady himself before pulling out his flask.
"Yeah?" Nadia asked, her voice soft but steady.
Dean held it out to her. "Take it before I go to town," he said with a half-hearted grin, his eyes betraying the nervousness beneath his attempt at humor.
Nadia nodded lightly and accepted the flask. "Okay," she said, slipping it into her pocket. Then, with a reassuring pat on his leg, she leaned in close, her voice low and comforting. "You're gonna be fine, don't worry."
Dean met her gaze, a small, grateful smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
Sam's voice interrupted the moment, bringing them both back to the task at hand. "I don't know, guys," he said, his tone serious as he walked over to them, his brow furrowed with concern.
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Dean shrugs, a casual yet pained expression on his face. "Hey, she's your Hell buddy."
Sam's eyes are narrowed with concern, his brows furrowed in a mix of anxiety and frustration. He had sent Ruby to help with the plan, knowing it was risky, and now, he couldn't shake the fear that he'd sent her straight to her death.
Suddenly, the wind picks up, whipping through the barn. The doors fly open with a deafening creak, and in strides Castiel and Uriel, their presence unmistakable. Uriel, always the dramatist, wore Anna's grace around his neck, a vial hanging like a twisted trophy—a cruel display.
The group stands frozen for a moment, the air thick with tension. The doors slam shut behind them, and silence reigns. Everyone exchanges a mixture of wary glances, uncertain of what comes next.
"Hello, Anna," Castiel's voice breaks the silence, calm but weighted. "It's good to see you again."
Anna doesn't answer, her gaze fixed on the ground as if trying to process everything all at once. Her lips tremble but remain silent.
