Fighter: Dean Winchester (REVAMPED VERSION)

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The Impala sat parked in Bobby's junkyard, the last traces of sunlight painting the horizon in deep orange and dusky purple. Inside, Nadia sat in the backseat, legs curled beneath her, surrounded by open books.

Her notepad lay on her lap, pages filled with scribbled notes, questions, and underlined phrases that had yet to yield any answers. The quiet hum of insects outside provided the only background noise as she flipped another page, her focus intense but growing weary.

Dean approached from the driver's side, his boots crunching against gravel. He hesitated when he saw her through the window, her face illuminated by the fading light. She looked tired, her forehead creased with concentration. Steeling himself, he opened the door and slid into the backseat beside her, the leather creaking under his weight.

"You've been out here all day," Dean's voice was low, tentative. "What are you doing?"

Nadia barely glanced up from the book in her lap, her expression unreadable. "Just reading," she replied, her tone flat but not cold. "Trying to find something useful."

Dean's eyes drifted to the pile of worn, mismatched books beside her—Chuck's so-called gospel of her life. He reached for one, his hand hesitating mid-air when Nadia shook her head.

"Don't bother," she said, closing the book in her hands with a soft thud. "They're not helpful. Nothing we didn't already know—or feared. The only parts that even remotely stand out are my mother's cryptic riddles about Michael and Lucifer."

Dean frowned, lowering his hand. "What kind of riddles?"

Nadia flipped through the pages absently, her brow furrowed. "Things like this: 'You can't cage the fire forever. To end it, you let it burn itself out.' Or here: 'You think victory is your purpose, but maybe it's your undoing.' And this gem: 'The end isn't the end—it's where true choices begin.' Oh, and my favorite: 'The cage wasn't just made to hold one son. When the storm comes, don't lose sight of the bigger picture.'"

Dean's expression darkened at the mention of the cage. "The cage?"

"Yeah." Nadia sighed, shutting the book and resting her head against the car seat. "I have no idea what she means, and honestly, it's not like it helps us stop this train wreck."

"So, that's it? No secret weapon? No divine cheat code?"

Nadia let out a bitter laugh. "You're the secret weapon, Dean," she said, shaking her head. "My mother's 'most important assignment.' And she failed. The crazy part is... I was kind of hoping I'd fail too."

The raw honesty in her voice made Dean's chest tighten. He stayed quiet, letting her continue.

"I'm on the fourth book now," Nadia said, nodding toward the pile. "It dives into my parents' relationship. My dad was the one thing that kept my mother grounded, even with everything falling apart in Heaven. He was her anchor."

Dean's gaze softened as he looked at her. "Sounds like a couple I know."

Nadia gave a faint, dry smile. "I guess history repeats itself—though not completely." She gathered her notebook and the books, stacking them neatly in the front seat.

The silence between them grew heavy, the air thick with unspoken tension. Finally, Dean broke it, his voice low and laced with guilt.

"I didn't know..."

"Didn't know what?" Nadia asked, turning to him.

"I didn't know you struggled," he admitted, his eyes fixed forward. "Between picking the world and me. Picking your family and me. I just... never thought about it that way. I know we've talked, but I guess I didn't really see how much weight you were carrying."