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.

"So no, it's never been a question of where my loyalty lies. It's with humanity. Always."

The room fell silent, her words hanging heavy in the air. Walter's expression softened, pride tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I figured as much," he said with a small nod. "But we had to ask. We've got people to protect."

"And I understand that," Nadia replied. "If you ever need my help, I'm just a prayer away. Ask Madison—she'll tell you. And I'm sure my boys would lend a hand too. They're good like that."

Claire offered a tentative smile, though her wariness lingered at the edges. "Thank you. And for what it's worth... you and your boys always have a place here. Any family of Bobby's is family to us."

Nadia gave a small, genuine smile. "Thank you. Really."

She excused herself, stepping outside into the crisp night air. Bobby followed close behind. As soon as they were far enough from the house, Nadia spun on her heel, her gaze sharp.

"Since when do we tell people I'm an archangel, Bobby?" she demanded, her voice low but cutting. "Especially people I just met?"

"I'm sorry," Bobby began, holding up his hands. "It slipped, alright? I was tryin' to explain y'all were workin' to stop the apocalypse, and it just came out."

Nadia let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. "I've never had someone—some human—question my loyalty before. And I didn't like it."

"In their defense," Bobby said carefully, "most folks with your kinda power wouldn't hesitate to abuse it. Even if they were raised human."

Nadia's shoulders sagged slightly. "Yeah, I guess," she muttered, turning away, her expression clouded.

Bobby frowned, studying her. "What's really eatin' at ya?"

"I'm feeling the pressure, Bobby," she admitted, her voice breaking slightly. "This whole place, these people... they're counting on us. On me. What if we can't stop it? What if—"

"We'll figure it out," Bobby interrupted, his tone steady. He stepped closer, resting a firm hand on her shoulder. "And if we can't stop it, then we fight like hell to put Lucifer's ass back where he belongs."

Nadia let out a breath, her lips twitching into a faint, reluctant smile. "That's the craziest damn thing I've ever heard."

"You and me both," Bobby said with a sheepish chuckle.

"Thanks, Bobby," she said sincerely. "Now, I'm gonna go call Dean. Check in on the boys."

Nadia stepped outside into the sticky, humid embrace of the Louisiana night, her phone clutched in her hand. The cicadas' buzzing filled the air, mingling with the faint scent of magnolias. She dialed Dean's number, biting her lip as the line rang. No answer. She stared at the screen, debating leaving a voicemail, when the door creaked open behind her.

"Hey," Camille's soft drawl broke the silence. "You doin' alright out here?"

"Yeah," Nadia sighed, tucking her phone into her pocket. "Just tried calling Dean. No answer. He's probably busy."

"Figures," Camille nodded knowingly, crossing her arms. "Them Winchester boys don't ever seem to slow down. Anyways, I was fixin' to grab a drink. Feel like joinin' me?"

"Sure," Nadia said, following Camille down the creaky steps toward a sleek black horse.

The ride through the commune was peaceful, the quiet only interrupted by the rhythmic clopping of hooves and the occasional rustle of leaves. When they reached the edge of the property, Camille pulled Charlene to a halt in front of a cozy, weathered cottage. Two horses were tethered outside, their reins loosely hooked to a post.

"What is this place?" Nadia asked, dismounting as Camille tied Charlene's reins.

"My little getaway," Camille said with a wry smile. "Daddy built it for me when I came back home. Needed a space where I could breathe without runnin' into somebody every time I turned around."

She opened the door, but her face immediately fell at the sight of Bernice and Pearl sprawled on the couch, barefoot and laughing.

"Though sometimes," Camille muttered, "my 'home away from home' ain't much of an escape."

"Oh, hush now," Pearl teased, wiggling her toes. "At least we didn't start drinkin' without you."

"You better not have," Camille said, kicking off her boots. She turned to Nadia. "Come on in, make yourself at home."

Nadia stepped inside, taking in the warm, inviting space. Bookshelves lined most of the walls, filled to the brim with worn paperbacks and leather-bound tomes. A cream-colored couch adorned with floral pillows sat opposite a matching armchair, both centered around a well-worn coffee table. A small kitchenette with a stove, fridge, and limited counter space took up one corner, while a reading nook with soft cushions nestled beneath a window.

"Cute place," Nadia said, pulling off her boots and settling into the armchair.

"Here we go," Camille announced, pulling a mason jar filled with clear liquid from the cupboard.

Bernice perked up, holding out her hands. "First sip's mine."

Camille snorted. "This ain't no 'oldest gets first dibs' situation, Bernice. My house, my rules." She unscrewed the lid, took a generous sip, and grimaced as the burn hit. Her neck popped, and her eye twitched as she handed it to Bernice.

"Homemade moonshine," Camille said proudly as Nadia raised a brow.

"The good stuff," Pearl added, taking a sip and coughing almost immediately. She passed it to Nadia with watery eyes.

Nadia hesitated, sniffed the jar, and took a sip. The burn hit her throat like a freight train. "Oh, that's awful." She coughed, handing it back to Camille.

"Yeah, it is," Camille agreed, grinning before taking another sip.

"So," Pearl started bluntly, "you're an angel, huh?"

"Pearl!" Bernice scolded, swatting her sister.

"What?" Pearl shrugged. "Ain't no easy way to bring it up."

Nadia chuckled, leaning back. "Yeah, word travels fast around here."

"The DuBois don't keep secrets," Bernice said with a sheepish smile, handing her the jar. "But we don't mean to pry."

"I don't mind," Nadia said, sipping the moonshine again, the burn less harsh this time. "And for the record, I'm an archangel."

"Ooh, pardon us," Pearl said, feigning offense.

The group laughed, the moonshine and shared camaraderie melting away any lingering awkwardness.

"Sorry we were so... weird when ya first showed up," Bernice said, her accent thick and melodic. She tilted her jar toward Nadia in a silent toast. "It's just... we liked you the second we saw you. You kinda wear this whole angel thing on your sleeve. But we're not usually swayed by new people. Makes us cautious."

"Funny," Nadia murmured, staring into the clear liquid in her jar. "Considering y'all take people in."

Pearl snorted, her voice softer but just as rich. "We've had bad experiences. Hunters're still people, after all. And some of 'em don't have the best intentions."

Nadia raised her jar. "I'll drink to that." She took a long swig before passing it to Pearl.

Camille leaned forward, her chin resting in her hand, curiosity lighting her face. "So, do ya really have wings?"

"I do." Nadia nodded, her tone casual.

Bernice's eyes sparkled with mischief. "Can we see 'em?"

"No," Nadia replied firmly, but her tone was kind. "Y'all are great, but I'm not a party trick. I'm a person first, before I'm an angel. If I don't need to use my abilities, I don't."

Camille nodded slowly, her expression thoughtful. "Makes sense."

"Gotta respect that," Bernice added, tipping her head.

"Besides," Nadia said with a sly grin, "moonshine and magic? Probably not the best combo."

"Keep drinkin'," Bernice teased, "and you might just change your mind."

Nadia smirked, taking back the moonshine. "So... is that why y'all invited me here? To get me drunk and use me for your personal entertainment?"

"Maybe." Camille shrugged playfully before breaking into a laugh.

"Well," Nadia said, raising the jar dramatically, "be careful what you wish for." She tipped it back, and as the liquid burned its way down her throat, the cabin lights flickered. Her eyes gleamed silver for a moment as she set the jar down with a wink.

The sisters exchanged wide-eyed glances before bursting into laughter.

The hours slipped away as they drank just enough to feel warm and loose, trading stories late into the night. They spoke of growing up in the hunter life, trading tales of their wildest cases. Pearl and Bernice shared how they met their husbands, and Nadia's story about meeting Dean left them laughing so hard they nearly cried.

By the time midnight rolled around, Bernice and Pearl were yawning, their tipsiness pulling them toward sleep. They bid goodnight and headed back to the house, leaving Nadia and Camille behind.

Sprawled on the floor, they stared at the wooden beams of the ceiling, the quiet settling around them like a blanket.

"How old are you, Camille?" Nadia asked, her voice soft.

"Twenty-six," Camille replied.

"And when did you lose your husband?"

Camille hesitated, her fingers absently tracing the grain of the floorboards. "I was twenty-two. Why d'ya ask?"

"I don't know." Nadia rolled onto her side to look at her. "You're still so young. You never thought about finding someone else?"

Camille let out a soft laugh, though there was a hint of bitterness in it. "Oh, I've thought about it. Trust me. But I just... ain't into anyone who lives within these walls."

Nadia raised an eyebrow. "All these people here, and you can't find one? Just say you're the problem."

"I am the problem!" Camille admitted with a laugh. "The men here? They're all macho and rough around the edges. Either they're scared of my daddy, 'cause, well... he's my daddy, or they borderline idolize him. It's like they want him more'n they want me. Plus... I like my men sensitive."

"Oh yeah?" Nadia asked, amused.

"Mm-hmm. My ex-husband, Xavier, he was as sensitive as they come. I'm a lotta woman with a big ol' mouth. I need someone who can tame me—balance me out, ya know?"

Nadia chuckled. "Yeah, I get that. Dean and I are kinda like that. I'm usually the one taming him, though."

Camille smirked, propping herself up on one elbow. "What's he like?"

"Macho. Rough around the edges," Nadia said, making them both laugh. "He's got a soft side, though. You just have to push the right buttons to see it. And he's so handsome, it drives me crazy sometimes."

"Sounds familiar," Camille said with a wistful smile. "What's his brother like?"

"Sam?" Nadia's brows lifted. "He's..."

"That bad, huh?" Camille teased, her laugh light and dry.

"No, no!" Nadia waved a hand. "Sam's sweet. Just... goin' through a lot. They're all each other's got, so it's been hard."

Camille nodded, her face softening. "As someone with a big family, I can imagine."

"Yeah?" Nadia asked, turning toward her.

"Oh, yeah." Camille sat up, folding her legs under her. "There's only three of us, but bein' the youngest? Always feelin' like I had to prove myself, find where I fit? That was tough. I love what my parents built here—I'm proud of it—but I wanted a choice. When I left... whew. I didn't talk to anyone but Pearl for a whole year. They didn't even come to my wedding."

"Seriously?" Nadia said, startled.

Camille nodded, her eyes distant. "What you see now? That took time. A lot of time. I was hurt, and I was mad at them for grieving Xavier so fast. I don't even know why I'm tellin' you all this."

"Partly 'cause you're drunk," Nadia said with a grin, "and partly 'cause I'm an angel. People feel comfortable around me—even if they don't know why."

Camille laughed softly. "Makes sense. So, which one of your parents was...?"

"My mom," Nadia said simply. "It's a long story."

"Well." Camille leaned back, her arms supporting her. "Maybe one day you'll tell me. Y'all leave tomorrow, right?"

"Yeah." Nadia sighed. "Back to the boys. Gotta figure out this apocalypse thing."

Camille shook her head in disbelief. "I'll be prayin' for y'all."

"And I'll be listenin'." Nadia smiled. "Thanks... Can I ask you a favor?"

"Course," Camille said, gesturing for her to go on.

"Can you keep an eye on Madison for me? She's got a tough shell, but she's a good kid. Might be interested in huntin', but I just want her to have the life she wants, not one she feels like she's gotta live."

Camille's expression softened with understanding. "I get that. Don't worry—I'll keep an eye on her."

Nadia smiled, relief washing over her. "Thanks."

Camille stood, swaying slightly. "We should head back."

"You can ride a horse tipsy, right?" Nadia asked, a little concerned. 

"We'll find out," Camille teased, grabbing her boots as they stepped into the cool night.