"So, let me get this straight," Rufus's voice cut through the sterile quiet of the hospital waiting room. He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, trying to process what Sam and Dean had just told him. "She's fainted like this before?"

"Yes. Sort of," Dean replied hesitantly. Both he and Sam sat rigidly across from the Turner family, the tension in the room thicker than the stifling hospital air.

"Sort of?" Irene asked sharply, her voice trembling despite her attempt to sound firm. She perched on the edge of her seat, her knuckles white from gripping the armrests.

"I mean," Dean said, scratching the back of his neck, "she fainted, but her nose didn't bleed, and she didn't pull the whole disappearing-and-reappearing bit. And she definitely didn't stay out this long before."

Rufus ran a hand down his face, exhaustion etched into every line. He hadn't stopped pacing since they'd arrived hours ago, waiting for word on Nadia's condition. "Well, what happened the first time?"

Sam took over, his tone calm but heavy. "Long story short, I had this handprint on my shoulder—left there by the angel that pulled me out of Hell. She touched it, fainted, and later admitted she heard the angel's name."

Irene gasped softly, her hand flying to her mouth.

"And she didn't tell me?" Rufus muttered, his voice low with a mix of anger and guilt. He leaned back in his seat, staring blankly at the floor as though it held the answers he desperately sought.

"I think," Sam said carefully, "she slowly realized the strange things happening to her were linked to being off her meds. She didn't want to come clean until she could figure out what it meant. Honestly, I think she was scared you guys wouldn't believe her. Especially Irene."

The mention of her name made Irene flinch.

Ben, who had been silent until now, turned to his mother with an accusatory glare. "Don't look at me like that, Ben," she snapped defensively, crossing her arms over her chest. "You weren't there when she—"

"You know she'd never hurt you on purpose!" Ben shot up from his chair, his voice cracking with emotion. "No matter how she feels about you, Nadia would lay her life on the line for you. That's just who she is!" 

"Ben—"

"Why couldn't you just hear her out?" His eyes shimmered with unshed tears. "Why can't you two get along?"

Before Irene could form a response, Ben spun on his heel and stormed out of the waiting room.

"Ben!" Irene called after him, her voice laced with regret.

"I'll get him." Dean stood up, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he walked out after the boy. 

He found Ben sitting on a cold metal bench just outside the hospital, his small frame hunched forward, hands clasped tightly in front of him. For a moment, Dean just stood there, watching the kid wrestle with emotions no twelve-year-old should have to deal with.

"This the part where you tell me to cheer up and not to worry?" Ben asked, not looking up.

"Not if you don't want me to," Dean replied, settling into the seat beside him with a sigh. "But I *will* say this—your sister's a badass. She's gonna be fine."

"I know. It's just . . ." Ben hesitated, his voice barely above a whisper. "I've never seen her like that. I've never even seen her have a cold."

"Never?"

"Never. I mean, I know she's not invincible, but . . . sometimes it feels that way. She and my dad come home with these battle scars and these cool stories, and I just . . . I guess I see them as heroes more than humans."

Dean nodded. "Well, that's not the worst thing in the world." 

"It wasn't—until tonight." Ben's voice wavered. "When she passed out . . . it hit me. She's not invincible. She could be gone. Just like that."

Dean placed a comforting hand on the boy's shoulder. "Hey, sibling to sibling—don't let yourself think like that. It'll just drive you nuts. Trust me, I know."

Ben wiped at his eyes with the sleeve of his hoodie. "I just want her to be okay. I want her and my mom to get along. I just . . . I just want to be a family. Like the ones on TV."

Dean chuckled softly. "Sorry to break it to you, kid, but families like that don't exist. What you're experiencing? That's the real deal. On a much lower scale, mind you. Trust me, if anyone knows about broken families, it's me. My parents are gone. All I've got is Sammy—and cranky ol' Bobby Singer."

Ben let out a watery laugh. "He *is* cranky. That's what makes him so great."

"Exactly," Dean said with a smirk. "Look, I know it's hard not to worry about your family, but you're still a kid. You're the little brother. That means you worry about Nerf fights and puberty while the adults figure out the hard stuff. I had to grow up fast. You don't. Let them work it out."

Ben hesitated, then nodded. "You really think they will?"

"They love you too much not to," Dean said, pulling the boy into a quick, one-armed hug. "That's what real families do—they figure out a way to make it work. Not that Brady Bunch crap on TV." 

Ben cracked a small smile. "Yeah, all right."

"Come on," Dean said, standing. "Let's head back inside." 

Around one in the morning, the doctor finally approached with an update.

"There's nothing physically wrong with her," he said, glancing between Rufus, Irene, and the Winchesters. "Her vitals are strong, and her scans are clear. At this point, I'd say she's just resting." 

Rufus frowned. "So why won't she wake up?"

The doctor hesitated, clearly unable to provide an answer. "Sometimes the body just needs time. She's stable, and we'll keep monitoring her. That's all we can do for now." 

The implication hung heavy in the air. This wasn't a medical issue—it was supernatural. 

Rufus stood at Nadia's bedside, brushing a hand down her warm cheek. Her heartbeat was strong, and her complexion was healthy. She looked as though she could wake at any moment. 

Irene lingered at the foot of the bed, her arms crossed over her chest. Despite her rocky relationship with Nadia, the thought of losing her was a nightmare she tried to avoid daily. The tears welling in her eyes told Rufus that much. 

"I've held on to Vanessa's death for too long," Rufus said softly, glancing at Irene. "But I never wanted you to feel like you had to be her."

"You didn't have to ask," Irene replied, her voice thick with emotion. "It was implied. Every time someone talks about Vanessa, it's about how perfect she was. The best wife, the best mother, the best everything. Do you know how that makes me feel? Like I have to be perfect too. Like I have to fill her shoes to make you happy and raise her daughter."

Rufus sighed deeply. "Irene, you don't have to be like Vanessa to make me happy."

"Then what's it going to take, Rufus? How do I help you let go? How do I become enough for you?"

He turned to face her fully, his gaze steady. "You *are* enough. You've always been enough. But letting go of Vanessa? That's not something I can promise. Because it's not just about her. It's about the fact that someone—or *something*—took her from me. From us. And I still don't have the answers."

Irene's arms dropped to her sides, her frustration ebbing as she saw the raw pain in his eyes. 

"This is bigger than us now," Rufus said firmly. "Bigger than Vanessa. And we need to support Nadia. No matter how scary this gets. Do you understand?"

She nodded, tears streaming down her face. "I understand."

"Good. Come here." Rufus pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly.

Dean softly sang one of his favorite Led Zeppelin songs, staring out the window of Nadia's hospital room with a pensive expression. His voice was low and gravelly, carrying the tune almost like a lullaby. 

"See my baby, tell her. Tell her hurry home. Had no lovin', since my baby been gone...See my baby, tell her hurry on home. I ain't had, Lord, my right mind since my rider's been gone."

Behind him, Nadia's eyelids fluttered open. She blinked groggily, taking in her surroundings. 

"She's a kindhearted lady," Dean continued, doing a dramatic air guitar solo, clearly lost in the music. "She studies evil all the time. She's a kindhearted woman. She studies evil all the time—" 

"I'm your what?" Nadia croaked, startling him so badly that he nearly fell over. 

Dean whirled around, his cheeks flaming. "Whoa! Y-you're awake!" 

"And you're a pretty decent singer," she teased, her voice raspy. "And that air guitar? Ten out of ten." 

Dean laughed, scratching the back of his head. "Well, thanks. Didn't think I'd have an audience." 

"That your favorite song?" 

"Yeah, that and Ramble On. You?" 

"Stairway to Heaven. Heard it on the radio on my way to my mom's funeral." She paused, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. "Something about it always stuck with me." 

Dean tilted his head, sensing the heaviness in her tone, but didn't press. "Good choice." 

Yawning, Nadia started to sit up, but Dean quickly stepped forward. "Hey, take it easy." 

"I'm fine, I swear," she reassured him, motioning to the water pitcher. "Better than fine, actually. I feel... recharged." 

Dean poured her a glass of water and handed it to her. "I would hope so. You've been out for two days." 

Nadia nearly choked on her drink. "*Two days?*" 

"Yep. You had us scared for a minute," Dean admitted. "Do you remember anything? What happened?" 

"I remember everything," she said, the seriousness in her tone wiping the smirk off his face. "Including where I disappeared to—or at least I think I do." 

"Where?" Dean asked, pulling a chair closer to her bed. 

"Hold up," Nadia interrupted. "Where's Sam? He should hear this too." 

Just as Dean reached for his phone, Sam walked in, holding two steaming cups of coffee. His face lit up with relief at the sight of her awake. 

"You're up!" Sam exclaimed. "How're you feeling?" 

"Good, thanks. Where's my family?" 

"They're on their way," Sam explained, handing one of the cups to Dean. "Irene said they had to pick up Ben from school." 

"Okay, well, I want you two to hear this first," Nadia said, leaning forward with urgency. 

Sam sat down, intrigued. "What happened?" 

"Somehow, I ended up in this town," Nadia began, her brow furrowing as she recalled the vivid details. "I don't know where, but it was definitely Halloween. Everything seemed normal... until it wasn't." 

"What do you mean?" Dean asked. 

"The town started to combust," she explained, her voice dropping. 

"Combust?" Dean echoed, clearly confused. 

"I mean, full-on destruction. Like the apocalypse." 

Dean shifted uncomfortably, exchanging a look with Sam. "End-of-the-world kind of apocalypse?" 

"Exactly," Nadia replied. "It felt like the vision I had before I came back home—where I saw a destroyed town. I'm pretty sure it's the same place." 

"You think it's a warning?" Sam asked. 

"Maybe," Nadia nodded. "But here's the kicker—I found a hex bag under the rubble." 

"A hex bag?" Dean repeated, frowning. "So, what—a witch is planning to blow up an entire town?" 

"Can witches even do that?" Sam questioned, tilting his head thoughtfully. 

"I don't know," Nadia admitted. "But whatever it is, it's bad. And we don't have much time to figure it out. Halloween's in what—two weeks?" 

"Could've been a vision of the future," Sam theorized. "Maybe it's not this Halloween but one coming up." 

"Either way," Nadia said, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. "We need to figure out which town this is and stop it from happening." 

Dean raised an eyebrow, skeptical. "You sure you're up for it? You've been unconscious for two days." 

"I'm starving, but other than that? I feel great," Nadia said, standing up and grabbing her clothes. "Besides, this might confirm something... I think I'm an angel." 

Both brothers froze. "Come again?" Dean asked, narrowing his eyes. 

"Think about it," Nadia explained, heading to the bathroom to change. "The only people we know who can teleport—or time travel—are angels. Castiel took you to the past, didn't he?" 

"Yeah..." Dean trailed off, exchanging a glance with Sam. 

"Well, it makes sense," she called through the bathroom door. "Even back in Missouri, Castiel said those pills were keeping me from reaching my full potential. And if I'm not an angel, I'm something that can help stop whatever this is." 

Dean leaned back in his chair, processing her words. "Makes sense," he admitted. 

"But there's a bigger question," Sam interjected. "If you are... whatever you are, how? It has to be tied to your mom, right?" 

Nadia stepped out of the bathroom, pulling her hair into a ponytail. "Exactly. And whatever she was—it's the reason demons killed her. It has to be why I was kidnapped. It might even explain the nightmares, the voices, the passing out... But ugh, not again." 

She groaned, clutching her head as her face twisted in pain. 

"Nadia, what's wrong?" Sam shot to his feet. 

"I can hear every conversation in the hospital," she whispered, squeezing her eyes shut. "And someone is flat-lining six floors up." 

"Code blue! Code blue!" a nurse's voice echoed from the hallway. 

Dean and Sam exchanged a look of alarm. 

"Maybe we should get her out of here," Sam suggested. 

"Good idea," Dean agreed, grabbing his jacket.