Dean stood over Alastair, watching with grim satisfaction as the demon heaved and coughed up a thick, putrid mixture of blood and disintegrated salt. Alastair could barely catch his breath, his chest heaving with every effort, but that didn't stop him from speaking.

"Something caught in my throat," Alastair rasped, a foul mixture of blood and bile bubbling up from deep within. He coughed again, his body wracked with the effort, and blood splattered down his chin. "I think it's my throat."

Dean's chuckle was low, dark, and devoid of humor, his voice dripping with apathetic malice. "Well, strap in, 'cause I'm just startin' to have fun." He walked back to the cart, grabbing another container of holy water.

Alastair snorted, a mocking sound despite his weakened state. He kept his eyes on Dean, watching as he prepared for the next round. "You know, it was supposed to be your father."

Dean paused mid-step, listening. He poured the holy water carefully into a chalice, the liquid swishing in the container.

"He was supposed to bring it on. But, in the end, it was you."

Dean's jaw tightened as he set the chalice down, his hands steady despite the threat in Alastair's words. "Bring what on?" His voice was cold, suspicion building in his gut.

Alastair's voice dropped, hoarse but full of venom. "Oh, every night, the same offer, remember? Same as your father."

Dean's hand reached for the bloodied demon knife, and he poured holy water over it, the fluid hissing on contact. Then, with deliberate care, he sprinkled salt on the blade. The ritual was slow, methodical—just like his plan for Alastair's suffering.

"And finally you said, 'Sign me up.' Oh, the first time you picked up my razor, the first time you sliced into that weeping bitch..."

Dean froze mid-movement, his hand hanging in the air. His eyes slowly shifted to meet Alastair's, his body tense, and his jaw clenched. The demon was smiling at him, a dark gleam of satisfaction in his eyes.

"That was the first seal."

Dean's expression hardened, his eyes narrowing as he stalked toward the demon. Every step felt like it carried a thousand pounds. His gut twisted with a mixture of disgust and realization. Alastair was playing mind games—had to be. If there was one thing demons excelled at, it was twisting truths and spewing lies. But Dean couldn't shake the feeling that the demon wasn't entirely lying.

He grinned, letting out a low, humorless chuckle. "You're lying."

Alastair's grin never faltered, his voice dripping with malicious amusement as he recited, "And it is written..." He sneered, the words coming easily. "That the first seal shall be broken when a righteous man sheds blood in hell. As he breaks, so shall it break."

Dean's stomach churned, a knot of dread tightening in his chest. The words reverberated in his mind, and the truth slowly began to sink in, like the heavy weight of an anchor dragging him down. His face hardened, the weight of it all pressing down on him as he absorbed the significance. It felt like a blow to the gut—like the floor beneath him had vanished.

His grip on his composure faltered, and for a brief second, his facade slipped. His lips twitched into a tight, strained smile, trying desperately to hold himself together. He couldn't let it show—he couldn't let Alastair see how much the revelation affected him.

After a long pause, one that stretched on for what felt like an eternity, Dean turned his back to the demon. His shoulders slumped, the exhaustion of the situation suddenly crashing over him. His voice came out hollow and resigned.

"We had to break the first seal before any others," he muttered. His words hung in the air, each one carrying more weight than the last. "Only way to get the dominoes to fall, right? Topple the one at the front of the line."

Alastair sucked in a sharp breath, his eyes gleaming with something that could almost be mistaken for admiration, though the demon's gaze was unreadable. "Hm," he said, almost wistfully, tilting his head back as if lost in thought, like a child staring at a starry sky, contemplating the enormity of a dream.

At this point, Dean was suffocating under the weight of his guilt. The truth gnawed at him relentlessly. He hadn't meant to set things in motion, but now, faced with the consequences, he realized how much of the destruction had been his doing.

He didn't want to admit it, but the revelation fit all too well with the doubts that had been eating at him for years: Unworthy.

He was being asked to stop the apocalypse, the very thing he'd inadvertently set in motion.

In his own eyes, Dean wasn't a hero. And if this didn't prove it—if he didn't deserve to carry the weight of it all—then he didn't know what would.

Dean shut his eyes, trying to gather whatever was left of himself. His fists clenched, his jaw twitching as he struggled to swallow the bitter emotions threatening to spill over. He couldn't fall apart. Not now. Not here. Not in front of Alastair.

He needed to finish this.

"Believe me, son, I wouldn't lie about this." Alastair's voice was casual, almost mocking, as he scanned the room. His gaze lazily fell on a pipe above them, droplets of water falling and washing away the paint, breaking the trap that had once held him.

The demon's smile twisted darker, more sinister.

" . . . It's kind of a religious sort of thing with me." Alastair dropped his gaze, the smile still on his face.

Dean opened his eyes, staring straight ahead, his back still turned, refusing to acknowledge the demon's defiance. The familiar sensation of frustration gripped him as Alastair taunted him from behind.

"No," Dean said, his voice tight with tension. "I don't think you're lying."

He nodded, but it wasn't because he was coming to terms with his own guilt. It wasn't about accepting the weight of the choices he'd made. It was because he was done. He was ready to end this. To end Alastair. For good.

Through gritted teeth, he added, "But even if the demons win... you won't be there to see it."

Dean's eyes flicked toward the demon knife, the cold steel gleaming in the dim light.

Alastair's smirk never wavered.

In a flash, the demon was standing in front of him, free from his chains.

"You should talk to your plumber about the pipes," Alastair quipped, and in the blink of an eye, he punched Dean, sending him crashing to the floor.

Dean struggled to push himself up, but the demon wasn't finished. Alastair stood over him, relentless. He beat Dean mercilessly, each blow harder than the last, until Dean's mouth filled with blood, his vision blurred.

The demon wasn't holding back now.

Alastair grabbed Dean by the collar, lifting him off the ground with inhuman strength, his fists crashing into Dean's face again and again. Dean's body went limp, but just when it seemed like everything was slipping away, Alastair jerked him back to his feet, his fingers tightening around Dean's throat.

Dean's feet dangled in the air as he was pinned against the hexacle, the pressure of the chokehold suffocating him. The room spun, and the edges of his consciousness started to fade, but Alastair held him in place, his grip unrelenting.

"You got a lot to learn, boy," Alastair taunted, a cruel grin curling on his lips. "So I'll see you back in class bright and early Monday morning!"

Dean sneered at the demon's smugness, but before he could respond, he felt a shift in the air. There was a sudden presence behind Alastair—too familiar to ignore. The demon froze mid-laugh, and with a sudden jolt, he was thrust forward as Castiel, eyes burning with a fierce resolve, drove the demon knife deep into his shoulder.

The demon gasped in surprise but quickly regained his composure, yanking himself away from Castiel with a vicious shove. The gold light flickered from the blade as it remained lodged in Alastair's shoulder.

"Well, almost," Alastair smirked through the pain, wiping blood from his lips. "Looks like God is on my side today."

Castiel, unyielding, lifted his arm. His eyes flared with celestial energy as he twisted the blade with his telekinetic power. Alastair grunted, his teeth clenched in pain, but he slowly pulled the knife from his wound, the force of his movement throwing the weapon aside. Blood poured from the open wound, but the demon didn't flinch—he only smiled darker.

"You're gonna regret that," Alastair sneered, charging at Castiel with the fury of a trapped animal. The two collided with the force of a storm. Fists flew, blood sprayed, and the air crackled with supernatural energy as they exchanged blows—Alastair delivering brutal hits that shook Castiel to his core.

Alastair's strength prevailed for a brief moment. With a savage shove, he sent Castiel crashing into a nearby hook on the wall, the metal biting into the angel's flesh.

A bloodied Castiel tried to move, his breath ragged, only to realize with a grimace that the hook had impaled him, pinning him in place.

Alastair growled, eyes dark with sadistic pleasure. He stepped closer, grabbing Castiel by the throat with a vice-like grip.

Alastair chanted a Latin spell and a blue light emulated from Castiel's eyes and mouth.

Just as Alastair was about to finish exorcising Castiel, the demon was suddenly thrown across the room, hitting the ground hard and releasing Castiel in the process. He landed on his back with a thud, barely able to recover before Nadia was on him.

With a swift, calculated motion, Nadia lunged at him, archangel blade in hand, and kneed him in the face before he could rise. She stood over him, the edge of her archangel blade poised above his head.

This was it. She was going to kill him. Alastair would never hurt anyone again, especially Dean.

Or so she thought.

The ground beneath her feet seemed to vanish, and before she could react, she was flung across the room, her body colliding with the concrete wall with a sickening thud.

Groaning from the impact, Nadia scrambled to regain her bearings. Her eyes locked onto the source of the attack—Sam. His powers had propelled her across the room, and now he stood there, his expression cold, as he pinned Alastair to the wall.

The air around Sam was thick with the stench of demon, and it only fueled Nadia's growing fury.

"Stupid pet tricks," Alastair sneered, struggling against Sam's hold.

Sam's voice was calm but authoritative. "Who's murdering the angels?" he demanded. "How are they doing it?"

Nadia scoffed, her fury barely contained as she exchanged a glance with Castiel. He, too, was visibly taken aback by Sam's sudden aggression. He hadn't expected to see such power in the younger Winchester.

Alastair let out a dark chuckle. "You think I'm going to tell you?"

"Yeah, I do," Sam replied, his voice chilling as he twisted his hand. His power squeezed Alastair's insides, causing the demon to gasp and gag.

Nadia watched, her anger and confusion mounting as Sam's powers took hold of Alastair. She couldn't tear her eyes away, still stunned by what she was witnessing.

"How are the demons killing angels?!" Sam barked, tightening his grip.

Alastair's eyes rolled into the back of his head as the pain worsened, but he refused to back down. "I... don't... know!" he choked out, his voice barely audible.

Sam's expression hardened. "Right," he muttered, and with another twist of his wrist, the pressure intensified.

Castiel, still stunned, had risen to his feet. His gaze flickered between Sam and the struggling demon. The power Sam wielded was unlike anything he had ever seen in a human before. Even Nadia, despite everything she'd been through, found herself frozen in place, a mix of horror and disbelief crossing her face.

Alastair, gasping for breath, managed to croak out, "It's... not... us! We're not doing it!"

Sam's eyes narrowed. "I don't believe you."

The demon's body jerked, the pain unbearable, but he pushed through it, determined to speak, if only for a chance at relief. "Lilith... is not behind this," he rasped. "She wouldn't kill seven angels. Oh, she'd kill a... hundred... thousands."

Sam paused, taking in Alastair's words. Then, with one final twist of his hand, he released the pressure but kept the demon pinned against the wall. His voice was calm, but the threat was palpable. "I'm stronger than that now. Now I can kill."

As Sam concentrated, Castiel watched him in disbelief, his eyes wide. Nadia felt a chill run down her spine. She had always known Sam to be strong, but this... this was something different. Something dangerous.

Alastair's body seized, his screams of agony filling the room. A brilliant gold light exploded from within him, and as he howled in pain, Nadia and Castiel both flinched. The demon's body jerked violently, then collapsed, lifeless, to the ground. The light faded, leaving only the remnants of his host.

Sam was panting heavily, beads of sweat dripping down his forehead. His gaze fixed on Castiel with a mixture of arrogance and frustration, the veneer of control slipping through his fingers as he struggled to hide it.

"R-R-Robin," Dean weakly croaked, his voice barely a whisper as he lay in a crumpled heap on the floor. His face was so swollen that his eyes were little more than slits, but even through the pain, he knew she was there.

"Dean," Nadia's voice was soft, but it cut through the room, drawing his attention. She was at his side in an instant, her presence a steady anchor in his haze of pain.

"R-Robin," Dean tried again, his hand trembling as he reached toward her. His attempt was weak, as though the effort to move was a battle in itself.

Castiel and Sam stood a few paces away, watching closely, but it was clear they were giving the moment space. They could see the tension between the two, but neither dared interrupt.

Fighting back her own tears, Nadia gently caressed Dean's battered face. Her fingers traced the lines of his features with the tenderness she could barely hold back. "Shh, I'm here," she whispered, her voice a soothing balm. He winced at her touch but didn't pull away. Even in the agony, her presence brought him something close to solace.

Nadia's palm glowed softly with radiant light, and in an instant, the energy transferred to Dean's body. His breath hitched as the physical pain that had wracked him, leaving his body with a sudden sense of relief. The bruises faded, the cuts sealed, and the tremor in his muscles slowly subsided.

She smiled softly, but there was sorrow in her eyes. "There you are."

Dean's eyes remained closed as he laid there, still breathing heavily. His body had healed, but his spirit was shattered, too heavy for even her powers to mend. Nadia could see it in his eyes—he was far from whole. He was fighting it, though, fighting the urge to break under the weight of what he'd endured, what he still carried.

"Come on," she whispered, her voice the quiet strength that he clung to. Gently, she took his hand and helped him sit up, steadying him as he groggily regained his balance.

She glanced up at Sam and Castiel, a final, lingering look that said more than words could. Without a word, she took Dean's hand once more and gently pulled him to his feet.

"Let's get you out of here," she said softly, her voice firm but full of quiet care.

Castiel and Sam stood in silence, watching them disappear, the air heavy with the weight of everything unspoken.

Nadia sat at the table, watching Dean sleep. He hadn't spoken a word since they returned to the motel, and Nadia didn't need him to. She could feel the weight of his silence, the deep, palpable hurt. It felt as if it were her own, wrapped around her heart, pressing down.

She had used angel magic to put him to sleep—it was the only way to settle him. After everything that had gone down, after all the pain and trauma, Dean was left to process it all in his own quiet way. But Nadia could feel it, the quiet unraveling, and it broke her heart.

The night had gone so wrong, all because of something as simple as a broken devil's trap. Something so small had almost cost Dean his life. They had tortured Alastair, and in the end, it was Sam who managed to get the demon to talk.

Nadia hated to even think it, but part of her believed Alastair. Demons weren't killing angels. But if not demons... who?

A knock at the door broke her thoughts. She sighed, rolling her eyes. It could only be one person. It had been hours since they'd left the meat plant—he had probably just gotten back.

The knocking grew more forceful. Nadia stood and walked quickly to the door, opening it before Sam could knock again.

"Dean!" Sam started to push past her, but Nadia held her hand up, silencing him with a look.

"He's asleep," she said in a hushed tone.

Sam stopped short, his frustration evident as he pressed his lips into a thin line. He glanced inside at his brother's sleeping form, but Nadia shook her head.

"We need to talk," Sam said, turning away from the door. He stepped onto the sidewalk.

Nadia grabbed her jacket, throwing it on quickly. After a final glance at Dean, she followed him outside.

As soon as the door clicked shut behind them, Sam turned, and before Nadia could react, he got a fist in the face. She wasn't expecting him to stumble back, but he did, clutching his jaw in confusion and shock.

"I warned you if you ever touched me again," she snapped, her voice cold.

"I helped—"

"I didn't need your help, Sam." She crossed her arms, her voice trembling with anger. "I was going to kill him, but no. You just had to walk in and steal the show."

Sam let out a hollow chuckle, his gaze dropping. "Yeah, yeah, it was brilliant. Here I thought you were there to help and instead, you take over the whole interrogation."

"The angels wanted information and they got it," Sam said, his tone defensive.

"Yeah, but they didn't ask you," Nadia pointed out, her eyes narrowing. "That's why you couldn't resist showing Castiel what you're capable of, huh?"

Sam bristled, his patience thinning. "You know what, Nadia? How about a thank you? Better yet, how about an apology for skipping out on me? We were supposed to go together, and then you just take Dean when it's all said and done?"

"A thank you?" Nadia laughed bitterly. "You don't deserve a thank you, Sam. You didn't come to help. You didn't come to save Dean. You came there for yourself. That's why I went without you. 'Dean can't do it,'" she mocked his words. "'Dean isn't strong enough.' You were more focused on whether Dean could go through with it than how it would affect him. You went there for a fight you knew you could win."

Sam's eyes darkened. "Alright, enough. I'm so sick and tired of you, Dean, even Pamela, telling me who I am, how I feel, what I need to do! All I'm trying to do is help! We're on the same side! I want to stop the apocalypse just as much as you do, and what I'm doing gets results."

"Results?" Nadia snorted. "Yeah, sure."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Sam snapped.

"I mean, you're an ass. It means you're not the guy I first met all those months ago."

Sam shook his head, his voice hardening. "No, I'm better than that guy. Stronger even."

The tension between them was thick, but before it could escalate further, the flutter of wings interrupted them. Castiel appeared, healed from the fight but clearly rattled by the events.

"How's Dean?" Castiel asked, his voice soft but concerned.

"What do you think?" Nadia replied sharply. "What the hell happened back there?"

"I don't know," Castiel admitted. "That trap... it shouldn't have broken. I'm sorry."

"This whole thing was pointless," Sam added, frustration boiling over. "You understand that? The demons aren't behind the hits. Something else is killing your soldiers."

"Perhaps Alastair was lying," Castiel said, his voice uncertain.

"No, he wasn't," Sam insisted, stepping toward the door.

"What are you doing?" Nadia blocked his way, her hand up in warning.

"I'm gonna check on my brother. If that's okay with you," Sam shot back, his tone clipped.

Nadia rolled her eyes but stepped aside reluctantly. She hated that she felt the need to protect Dean—even from his own brother.

Sam was becoming unhinged, and who knew how far he was willing to go.

"Nadia..." Castiel's voice pulled her from her thoughts. He was still standing there, looking at her with uncertainty in his eyes.

She turned to face him, her expression softening. "You know what you need to do, Cas?" she asked quietly. "Stop ignoring the doubt. Follow your instincts. Find out what happened. Dean risked everything for this. It's the least you can do."

Castiel stood still, his conflicted blue eyes locked with hers as she turned and disappeared inside.

Nadia didn't look back, but Castiel remained frozen, unsure whether he was ready to face what lay ahead—or worse, what he might find if he kept digging.