Dean's fingers hovered over the dial of his cell phone, the static on the other end a cruel reminder of how far out of reach Sam had become. He dialed again, growing more frustrated with each passing second. No matter how many times he tried, all he heard was the same empty, broken static.

A shift in the air made him turn. Castiel stood behind him, as quietly as ever, his trench coat fluttering slightly in the silence.

"You can't reach him, Dean," Castiel said, his voice calm, almost detached. "You're outside your coverage zone."

Dean put his phone, his jaw twitching.

Dean's looked at him, eyebrows furrowed. 

Castiel dropped his gaze.

Castiel doesn't respond, barely finding the guts to look him in the eyes.

"Why are you here, Cas?" Dean asked him. "You here to say goodbye, too?"

"Sorry?" Dean's voice cracked with incredulity, a deep, primal anger rising within him. Without thinking, he threw a punch, his fist connecting with Castiel's chest. The impact was like hitting a brick wall. Castiel didn't flinch, barely reacted at all. Dean hissed through his teeth as he flexed his hand, the pain shooting up his arm.

"It's Armageddon, Cas," Dean growled, massaging his head as he turned around to face the angel again. "You need a bigger word than 'sorry.'"

Castiel looked at him, his eyes pained, but steady. "Try to understand... this is long foretold. This is your..."

"Destiny?" Dean shakes his head, desperation beaming in his green eyes. "Don't give me that 'holy' crap. Destiny? God's plan? It's all a bunch of lies, you poor, stupid son of a bitch!" he tells the angel. 

Dean's voice shook with anger, every word laden with frustration and disbelief. "You know what's real?" Dean's voice softens, his lip quivering. "People. Families. That's what's real. And you're gonna stand by and watch them all burn?"

Castiel's gaze darkened, his jaw tightening. "What is so worth saving?"

Dean fights an eye-roll, briefly looking away.

"I see nothing but pain here," Castiel said. "I see inside you, Dean. Your guilt, your anger, your confusion. In paradise, all is forgiven. You'll be at peace. Even with Sam and definitely with Nadia."

Dean's eyes burned with contempt.

Conflicted, Castiel looks away but Dean forces his eyes to him. "You can take your peace... and shove it up your lily-white ass," he bit out, each word filled with venom. 

Castiel squints at his hurtful words. 

"Cause I'll take the pain. I'll take the guilt. Hell, I'll even take Sam as he is. It's a hell of a lot better than being some Stepford bitch in paradise." Dean's voice cracked with emotion, and his fists clenched tighter. 

Castiel turned away as Dean raised his voice. "This is simple, Cas! No more crap about being a good soldier. There is a right and there is a wrong, and you know it."

Dean's heart thudded painfully in his chest. He reached out, grabbing Castiel's shoulder and spinning him back to face him, their eyes locking in a silent battle. 

"Look at me!" he shouted, his voice raw with desperation. "You know it!" Dean licks his lips, pausing for a bit. "You were gonna help me once, weren't you?"

Castiel looks away again, his eyes giving him away. 

"You were gonna warn me about all this, before they dragged you back to Bible camp. You were gonna help me!" He let go of Castiel's shoulder, his hand trembling. "Help me now. Please."

Castiel's inhaled deeply. "What would you have me do?"

"Get me to Sam," Dean shot back without hesitation, his voice firm, desperate. "We can stop this. We can stop it before it's too late."

Castiel shook his head, his expression solemn. "If I do that, we will all be hunted. We'll all be killed."

Dean's eyes flashed with anger, the words cutting deeper than he'd expected. "If there's anything worth dying for, this is it."

Castiel shook his head, scared. He looked down, his lack of response adding to the fire in Dean's heart.

Dean's jaw tightened, the last shred of hope he had fading as he saw Castiel's unwillingness. "You spineless... soulless son of a bitch," he growled, turning away in disgust. "What do you care about dying? You're already dead."

He didn't look back as he started to walk away, his mind racing with thoughts of Sam, of everything he could still try to stop. "We're done," Dean muttered under his breath, his heart heavy with the weight of the decision.

"Dean—" Castiel could barely muster. 

Dean stopped, his back still to Castiel, but he didn't turn. He couldn't bring himself to.

"We're done," he repeated more firmly.

The room was silent, save for the quiet sound of his footsteps. When he turned around again, Castiel was gone. The space where the angel had been stood empty.

Nadia had been reading for hours. The information was overwhelming, each line unraveling another horrifying revelation. Castiel set Sam free, had Anna captured and dragged back to Heaven, Dean was held in some Heaven-adjacent green room, Sam unknowingly marching straight toward breaking the final seal, and the angels—every single one of them—were complicit.

Lilith wasn't just a demon to be killed. She was the key. The one thing standing between the world and Lucifer's release.

Nadia stared at the screen, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. Her mind reeled, but oddly, her body stayed still. There was no panic, no desperate rush to find Dean or intercept Sam. The realization settling over her was heavier, colder than fear.

This was how it was meant to be.

Her mother's riddles finally made sense, the words she'd scrawled over and over in her journal becoming clear in light of what she'd just read. Vanessa had seen this coming—not in detail, but in shape and inevitability.

"The end isn't the end. It's where true choices begin."

Nadia paced Chuck's living room, her boots clunking against the hardwood. Her movements weren't frantic, but measured, as if each step was helping her process the enormity of her realization.

Chuck, watching her with wide, uncertain eyes, finally broke the silence. "You're really gonna let the apocalypse happen?" His voice was unsteady like he wasn't sure if he was asking a question or giving a warning.

"I know it sounds crazy," Nadia admitted, stopping in her tracks and turning to face him, "but think about it. We've been so focused on stopping the apocalypse, so dead-set on keeping it locked away, that no one ever considered the long game. We stop it now, and what? Another demon, another fool gets a bright idea and we're back to square one. But if Lucifer rises? If we take him out for good?"

She shrugged, trying to sound confident even as the enormity of what she was suggesting settled in her chest. "There's no second chance for him. No do-over."

Chuck raised an eyebrow, pouring himself a glass of whiskey. "And Sam? You're talking about letting him—what? Kill Lilith and release the Devil?" He took a sip, his hand trembling just slightly.

Nadia's jaw tightened. "I'm not saying it's ideal, Chuck. But we've all been so obsessed with what we don't want to happen that we never stopped to think about what has to happen. Lucifer is the endgame. Not Lilith. Not Ruby. Him. And stopping the apocalypse doesn't mean Dean has to say yes. He's stronger than that. He'll see through their lies." Her voice softened, tinged with something that almost sounded like pride. "If I know Dean, and I do, he's probably already fighting back. Even now."

Chuck eyed her carefully, swirling his drink. "You're awfully calm about this for someone who was flipping out hours ago."

Nadia exhaled. "I've been flipping out my whole life, Chuck. Always reacting, always trying to stop things from falling apart. My mom saw this coming, and for the first time, I feel like I understand her. You can't cage a fire forever. To end it, you let it burn itself out."

She grabbed her journal off the table, thrusting it into Chuck's hands. "Here. Look at this. 'The end isn't the end—it's where true choices begin.' She knew. She saw this. And she was right."

Chuck flipped through the pages, his brow furrowing as he skimmed the entries. "Okay, sure, it's poetic. But that doesn't mean it's a good idea. What about Dean? You think he's just going to sit back and let Sam break the last seal?"

Nadia's confident posture faltered. Her shoulders slumped slightly, her arms falling to her sides. "Dean will understand. He trusts me."

Chuck set the journal down and fixed her with a skeptical look. "Trusts you? Sure. But how are you gonna convince him to let his brother unleash Lucifer? Dean sold his soul for Sam, Nadia. You really think he's gonna sit this one out?"

The weight of his words hit her like a blow, knocking the air from her lungs. She opened her mouth to respond but found she didn't have an answer. Chuck watched her, his expression softening.

"I'm just a writer," he said, his tone gentler now. "I don't know Dean like you do. But I've written enough about him to know he's not the kind of guy to let this 'big picture' plan of yours slide without a fight. Especially not when it comes to Sam."

Nadia sank onto the couch, resting her elbows on her knees as she stared at the floor. The pieces were all there in front of her, but putting them together without losing Dean's trust—or worse, his love—seemed impossible.

"You've got the picture," Chuck said, his voice cutting through her thoughts. "But figuring out how to paint it? That's on you."

Dean's boots thud softly on the floor as he paces the room. The white walls seem to close in on him with every step. His frustration is palpable, but there's nowhere to go, nothing to do except wait. 

His gaze shifts to the platter of hamburgers placed neatly on a nearby table, a bizarre and out-of-place luxury in the otherwise clinical environment. He stares at it for a moment, contemplating, before grabbing one without hesitation. The cool touch of the bun in his hand offers some small comfort, but it doesn't do much to ease the gnawing sense of confinement and dread.

Suddenly, the air shifts. Dean's instincts kick in, and he barely has time to react as Castiel materializes behind him. The angel's grip is like iron as he spins Dean around, slamming him into the wall with a force that rattles his bones. Dean's breath catches as Castiel presses a hand firmly over his mouth, stifling his instinctive shout. His other hand slides to his waist, drawing the demon knife from Dean's jacket. 

A moment passes, heavy and taut, as their gazes lock—Dean's full of defiance, Castiel's cold and calculating. Dean's chest rises and falls with quick, shallow breaths. There's a flicker of hesitation in Castiel's eyes, and Dean, understanding the silent command, gives a barely perceptible nod. It's enough. Castiel releases his hold on Dean, but not before taking a quick step back.

With a soft but deliberate motion, Castiel draws the knife across his forearm. Blood wells from the wound and he smears it across the wall in a precise pattern, his fingers moving with practiced ease. Dean watches him, the quiet tension hanging thick in the air.

"Castiel!" A voice rings out, cutting through the silence, harsh and accusatory.

They whip around to see Zachariah, Castiel's blood-covered hand still drawing. 

"Would you mind just explaining what the hell are you doing?" Zachariah started approaching when Castiel pressed his palm firmly in the center of the sigil, and the walls pulsed with a blinding white light. The flash is violent, and disorienting, and Dean instinctively squints against the brightness. When it fades, Zachariah is gone, erased from the room as if he'd never been there at all.

Dean blinks, his heart racing. His eyes flick to the space where Zachariah had stood, but the archangel is gone, leaving only the lingering echo of his disapproval. The room feels emptier now, somehow more fragile as if the fabric of their world had been stretched just a little thinner.

Castiel wipes his hand on his coat, his gaze steady. "He won't be gone long. We have to find Sam now."

Dean straightens, his frustration giving way to something more urgent. "Where is he?"

Castiel's jaw tightens. His eyes narrow slightly, the weight of uncertainty hanging in the air like a storm cloud. "I don't know," he gives Dean the knife. "But I know who does. We have to stop him, Dean—stop Sam from killing Lilith."

Dean's heart skips a beat, the name hitting him like a punch to the gut. "But Lilith's gonna break the final seal," he protests, his voice rising with panic."

Castiel doesn't flinch. His gaze is unwavering, his tone grim. 

"Hey, Robin. I'm okay. The angels have me locked up in some green room. I don't even know if you'll get this. I'm gonna get outta here somehow unless you get to me first. We don't have much time. There's only one seal left. I ain't giving up yet, and I hope you haven't either. I love you."

The voicemail ended with a soft beep, and Nadia stared at the screen, feeling the words echo in her chest. She let out a long, slow breath before pressing the phone against her palm and turning her gaze toward the moon outside Chuck's house. 

The silver light painted everything with an ethereal glow, but it was the clarity she felt inside that held her attention. She hadn't expected it, but the weight of her decision was settling into her with an unexpected certainty.

For the first time since she'd learned the truth about being an angel, Nadia felt like she knew what she had to do. She had never been more resolute, as though a puzzle had clicked into place in her mind. The fear and doubt that had gnawed at her before were gone. She wasn't afraid of losing Dean, or of the consequences of her choices. In fact, she expected them. If their love was truly as strong as they both believed, then it would work out. She had to believe that.

And, for the first time, she did. With her whole heart.

Dean's familiar presence pressed on her mind, a constant tug at the edges of her resolve. She inhaled deeply, steadying herself before she turned and headed back into the house. Inside, she was met with the scent of stale coffee and the tense silence that always hung in the air when the world was about to change.

As she entered the kitchen, she caught Chuck mid-sentence, his gaze flicking from laptop as she joined them.

"Robin!" Dean's voice was a burst of relief, and he crossed the room in a flash, pulling her into his arms. His embrace was tight as if he couldn't let go even if he tried. But before she could return it, he pulled back, his hands gripping her by the arms, eyes wild with urgency. "Perfect! You're here! We gotta go get Sam! Lilith—she's—"

"The last seal," Nadia said, cutting him off with a nod. She wasn't surprised. She already knew.

Dean's face softened with relief, but the urgency in his voice didn't fade. "Good, ready up, take us there."

Nadia felt the tension in the room tighten, the air thick with unspoken words. She glanced at Chuck, whose unease was evident. Castiel stood nearby, watching her with a puzzled look, as if he could sense that something was wrong but didn't understand it.

"What's up with you?" Dean asked, brow furrowed as he took a step toward her. "Come on."

"No," Nadia said softly, shaking her head. She took a step back, crossing her arms in front of her as she felt the weight of her decision. "I'm not going with you to try and stop Sam."

Dean frowned, confusion flashing in his eyes. "Wha—" His voice faltered for a moment before he pushed on. "What do you mean? I don't understand."

"It has to happen, Dean." Nadia's voice was firm.

"What? The apocalypse?! Have you lost your mind?! All we've done this whole year was try to fight this thing, and now you're just—just giving up?" Dean's voice cracked with frustration, his anger lashing out. "Why?"

Nadia exhaled slowly, her gaze dropping to the floor for a moment. She swallowed hard before meeting his eyes again. "Because there's a bigger picture here. We have to let it happen if we want to take out the big players."

Dean stared at her, his chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. "What does that even mean? Why are you talking to me in riddles right now?"

" If we don't take out the big guy, somebody else is just gonna come along and start this whole thing over. The demons will just find another Sam and the angels would probably help them look. Look, I don't have time to explain it all in detail," Nadia said, shaking her head.

Her words trailed off, and she could see that Dean was about to protest again. His voice broke as he spoke, a rawness in it that made Nadia's heartache. "Robin, I can't do this without you. I don't want to. Where's the woman who told me to keep fighting? The woman who—"

Nadia's breath hitched, and she gently reached up to caress his face. Tears welled in her eyes as she held him steady, using the full extent of her power to calm him, to make him listen. "Listen to me," she said, her voice steady despite the storm inside her. "You're going to go, and you're going to do what you feel you have to do. That is to save your brother."

His face slackened as if her words had taken all the fight out of him.

"You are Dean Winchester," she said, her voice soft but resolute. "The man who sold his soul to save his brother. You don't know how to let the chips fall, and that's okay. I love that about you. But this... this is different. You're going to go to that church. You're going to save Sam, and I'm going to see you on the other side of this because that's when the real fight happens. You understand?"

Every part of Dean's being screamed to argue, to refuse, but Nadia's touch, her gaze, her hold—he couldn't pull away from it.

"You understand?" Nadia asked again, her voice a little firmer now.

Dean swallowed hard, his face pale, and nodded. "Yes."

Nadia nodded back, swallowing the lump in her throat. Her heart ached, but she didn't let it show. She leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. "Go get him, Batman."

She pulled back, exchanging one last, quiet look with Castiel and Chuck before her wings unfolded. The air shifted around her as she vanished, her wings fluttering silently in her wake.