Fighter: Dean Winchester (REVAMPED VERSION)

dυвoιѕ нollow;pαrт ғoυr

As the last plates were cleared and the laughter of children faded into the night, the mood in Dubois Hollow shifted. The stars hung low and bright over the commune as Walter and Claire led Nadia and Bobby back to their house, the weight of unspoken concerns trailing behind them like shadows.

Inside Walter's office, the cozy warmth of the house gave way to a more somber atmosphere. The room, lined with bookshelves and hunting trophies, carried an air of authority. Walter's desk stood at the center, a polished oak centerpiece with stacks of papers neatly arranged. The faint smell of pine and old leather lingered in the air, grounding the seriousness of the conversation ahead.

Bobby sank into the chair across from Walter and Claire, his expression weathered but resolute. Nadia leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, taking in the tense energy that settled over the room. Claire, her soft drawl laced with determination, wasted no time.

"Bobby told us about the apocalypse," she said, her words landing like stones in the quiet room. "And we need to know—where are y'all at with it?"

Nadia arched an eyebrow at Bobby. "The apocalypse," she repeated dryly, her tone hovering between incredulity and irritation.

Bobby gave a half-shrug, his face faintly apologetic but firm.

Claire leaned forward, her voice softening but holding steady. "We just need to know if we should start preparing our people. Should we be readyin' ourselves for war?"

Nadia exhaled, running a hand through her hair. "Honestly? Yeah. You should. Because even if we manage to stop it, there's no guarantee there won't be... blowback."

Claire frowned, her gaze narrowing. "Blowback from who?"

"Demons... angels..." Nadia's voice trailed off as she gave a bitter laugh. "Take your pick."

A heavy silence fell over the room. Walter exchanged a long, meaningful glance with Claire before speaking. His deep drawl was measured but firm. "Bobby also mentioned somethin' else... Said you're an angel."

Nadia's head snapped toward Bobby, her brows arching high. "Did he now?"

Bobby shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "It slipped," he muttered. "Didn't mean to, Nadia."

She let out a sharp breath, pinching the bridge of her nose before turning back to the couple. "Well, yes. I'm an angel. An archangel, if you want to get technical."

Claire's hand fluttered to her chest, her expression a mix of shock and unease. Her lips parted as if she might say something, but she quickly clamped them shut, her eyes darting to Walter. Nadia recognized the look instantly—it was the wary awe of someone trying to reconcile what they'd just learned with their deeply rooted fears.

For the first time, the truth settled over her like a weight. Most of the people who had accepted her as an angel already knew her heart—Sam, Dean, Bobby. These were strangers. To Walter and Claire, she wasn't a friend or ally; she was an unknown, a being with power beyond comprehension. And in a world where that kind of power was rarely benevolent, she couldn't blame them for being cautious.

Walter cleared his throat, his gaze steady but guarded. "What does that mean... for your loyalty?"

Nadia straightened, her eyes narrowing slightly. "My loyalty?" she repeated, a bitter edge creeping into her voice. "I get it. You just met me. And yeah, logically, I could be a threat. I mean, I've got the power of life and death at my fingertips. If I wanted to, I could smite this whole commune in seconds."

Claire flinched, her lips tightening.

"But," Nadia continued, her voice softening, "luckily for you—and for me—I've been human far longer than I've been an angel. Some might argue I've always been an angel, but you get my point." Her tone grew raw as tears welled in her eyes. "I have a father, a stepmother, and a twelve-year-old little brother named Benjamin. He's barely had the chance to live, and this apocalypse? It's standing in the way of him growing up, having a future. A better life.