Fighter: Dean Winchester (REVAMPED VERSION)

тнe мoɴѕтer αт тнe eɴd oғ тнιѕ вooĸ; pαrт ѕeveɴ

It had been the most exciting yet scariest few days of Chuck Shurley's life. For a long time now, he'd been in a deep depression. His writing had become more of a chore than a passion, and he'd turned to alcohol to cope with the painful creative process. What was once a dream career had turned into something burdensome.

But now, he knew he was more than just a writer. He was a Prophet—his whole life suddenly had a purpose. As a sign of his renewed outlook, he spent the night cleaning his house, tidying up the chaos of his mind.

Chuck had just taken out the trash when he heard a soft sound from the kitchen. He froze, his heartbeat quickening.

He slowly closed the door behind him, tiptoeing toward the sound. He cautiously peered around the corner, and there she was—Nadia—standing in front of the fridge, her eyes scanning the drawings on it.

"You don't have any children," Nadia said, her voice steady but with a hint of curiosity.

"Excuse me?" Chuck stepped fully into view, startled by her presence.

Nadia turned toward him, still pointing to the drawings. "You don't have any children. Well, as far as I know."

"I don't," Chuck answered, sliding his hands into his pockets, his voice quiet, almost embarrassed.

"Who drew these, then?" She asked, leaning in closer, eyes narrowing as she tried to connect the dots.

"Just an old friend," Chuck replied, his voice distant. "She used to come by a lot. She had a daughter."

"Ah," Nadia murmured, still staring at the drawings, her mind spinning. She couldn't quite shake the sense that there was more to the story than Chuck was letting on, a connection she couldn't place.

"What are you doing here, Nadia?" Chuck's voice broke the silence, more gently than before.

"I don't know," Nadia chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of her neck. "I mean, I know... but I'm sorry, I swear I don't make a habit of sneaking into people's houses in the middle of the night."

"Unless there's a monster," Chuck added, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

"Right, yeah," Nadia forced a smile, though she still seemed a bit uncomfortable.

Chuck gestured toward the table, motioning for her to sit. "Sit."

Nadia nodded, quickly taking a seat. She'd been stressing about getting answers all day, but now that she was here, sitting in Chuck's kitchen, she felt a nervous hesitation creep in. The questions she'd been carrying seemed heavier now that she was face-to-face with him, and she wasn't sure if she was ready to dig into them.

"Does Dean know you're here?" Chuck asked, moving to a cabinet above the counter.

"No, he's catching some sleep before we hit the road tonight," Nadia replied. "This whole Lilith thing was a lot."

"Yeah, tell me about it," Chuck muttered, pulling something from the cabinet and quickly hiding it behind his back before Nadia could see. "Thank you for saving my life, by the way."

"It's what I do," Nadia shrugged, trying to downplay the tension she felt inside.

Chuck turned around and, with an awkward smile, pulled a jar of lollipops from behind his back, setting it on the table in front of her. "Lollipop?"

Nadia's eyes lit up like a child in a candy store. "How did you even—wait, never mind. You practically know all of us like the back of your hand." She picked one from the jar, her fingers brushing the paper wrapper. "Did you have these the whole time?"