Fighter: Dean Winchester (REVAMPED VERSION)

ιт'ѕ α тerrιвle lιғe;pαrт oɴe

In another world, an alternate universe. Sam and Dean Winchester never become hunters, and they aren't even brothers.

Dean Smith, however, is a successful sales marketer at Sandover Bridge and Iron Inc. He lives in a sleek, modern home, drives a Prius, wakes up at 6 AM on the dot every morning, creaming his espresso machine coffee with rice milk, and listens to business radio on the way to work. His life is orderly, predictable, and pristine—everything he's ever worked for.

Then there's Sam Wesson. Intelligent, diligent, and relatively new to the company as an IT specialist. He's been there for just three weeks, his wide-eyed ambition a stark contrast to Dean's perfectly polished routine.

And then, there's Nadia. A Nephilim, raised around angels, but kept in the dark about the true identity of her human father.

"Let's go over this, one more time. What's my name?"

Nadia groaned and crossed her arms, sitting on the opposite side of the desk. The white dress she wore, impeccable in design but tight and uncomfortable, felt like it was slowly squeezing the air out of her chest. "Mr. Edward Adler. For the hundredth time, Uncle Zach," she said, exasperation lacing her voice. "You are the CEO of Sandover Bridge and Iron Inc., and you just hired me, Sarah Myers, to be your top employee Dean Smith's assistant."

Zachariah, standing behind his desk, was absorbed in staring out the window. His gaze was fixed on the bustling city below, his mind clearly elsewhere. "Good."

"I don't know why you're so worried," Nadia continued, leaning back slightly in the chair. "I know all about humans. Mom's taught me well. The plan is going to work. The boys will get the job done. Don't you believe in me?"

Zachariah turned, his cold green eyes now focused on her, an inscrutable expression on his face. He didn't answer immediately. His presence was commanding—tall, with graying hair, and wearing a perfectly tailored black suit. He looked every part the corporate overlord, though his power was anything but human.

"Of course," he said, his voice more clipped than encouraging.

"I just need you focused," he added, his tone almost admonishing.

"I'm focused," Nadia stood, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "What's so great about these guys anyway? A sales marketer and an IT guy? They don't exactly give off hunter vibes."

Zachariah's lips twitched as though he were fighting a smile. "Well, you know humans. You'd be surprised by what they're capable of when put in a sticky situation."

Nadia lifted a hand to fluff her hair, a nonchalant gesture to hide the fluttering nerves in her chest. She hated playing the part of a "classy professional"—the tight clothes, the uncomfortable shoes. She was used to being in control, blending in among the divine. Humans, though, had their own set of rules.

She glanced at Zachariah, who had his eyes on his watch now. "How do I look?" she asked, shifting slightly.

"Beautiful," he said, walking over to her and placing a hand on her shoulders, a touch that was both possessive and proud. "Now," he glanced at his watch again, "Dean should be arriving at his office in a minute. Go out there and make sure they follow their path, or should I say, play their part."

Nadia nodded, more confident in the task at hand now. "I won't let you down," she assured him.

As she turned to leave, her white heels clicked on the hard floor, the sound sharp and reminding her of the pain slowly creeping into her feet. She gritted her teeth, determined to keep her composure.