It was Dean and Nadia's first time sharing a room together as a couple while on the road. They were staying in a modest motel room in Sioux City, Iowa, for the night, and after a long day, they decided to rent a movie.

Dean had already emptied a nearby gas station of junk food, stocking up on snacks to last the evening, and rented one of his favorite films: The Hatchetman.

The plot, as expected, followed a group of college students who found themselves falling victim to a brutal serial killer. Nadia was hesitant at first but agreed to give it a shot. By the end of the movie, she was completely invested, yelling at the screen and throwing things at the TV during the intense murder scenes.

Dean couldn't help but smile. Normally, he was the one reacting like that, but watching her so passionate and animated was a treat.

Once the movie ended, they lay side by side on the bed, tossing candy in the air and trying to catch it with their mouths.

"I suck at this," Nadia laughed as a piece of candy bounced off her forehead.

"You've got this," Dean encouraged, leaning back against the pillows, a playful gleam in his eyes.

"Okay, okay," she said, grabbing another piece. Focused, she tossed it into the air. But before she could catch it, Dean snatched it right out of the air and ate it.

"Hey!" Nadia playfully slapped his arm.

"Got to be quicker than that," he said with a smirk, turning toward her and leaning in for a kiss.

Nadia tilted her head away, teasing him. "Gotta be quicker than that."

Dean chuckled. "Ha-ha, get over here, you," and pulled her leg over his, drawing her close.

"Fine, you got me," she said, caressing his cheek and resting her head against his.

"You're easy," Dean teased.

"Don't get used to it," Nadia shot back, making him grin.

They shared a long, lingering kiss, the world outside fading away.

"You taste like candy," Nadia whispered against his lips, her voice soft.

"So do you," Dean murmured, kissing her again. This one lasted longer, and when they broke apart, he gently pushed a loose lock of hair from her face. "You're so beautiful."

"Thanks," Nadia blushed, her smile warm. "You're not so bad yourself."

"So, I've heard," Dean teased, making her laugh.

But her smile slowly faded, and her brow furrowed as a cloud of thought seemed to hang over her. She was clearly still carrying some weight, something she wasn't ready to let go of. Dean noticed her sudden shift in mood. There was something she wasn't telling him, something important.

"Robin?" Dean's voice softened, sensing the change. "What's going on?"

Nadia hesitated for a moment, then sat up, swinging her legs off the bed. "I need to show you something."

Dean sat up too, his curiosity piqued. "Okay..."

She opened her duffle bag, rummaging through it before pulling out a worn, old photo. She crawled back onto the bed and sat on his lap, holding the picture in her hands. "I found this in my mom's things."

Dean's heart dropped when he saw the photo. It was old, worn around the edges, but unmistakable. "Is that our moms... and my dad?"

"Yeah," Nadia said, her voice soft.

Dean stared at the photo in disbelief. "How? I don't remember... my father never mentioned—"

"You wouldn't," Nadia interrupted gently, her expression unreadable. "Your parents, either. My mom was friends with yours, but she kept her distance for a reason. She knew what was coming. She befriended them to protect you and prepare you for what's happening now. She was there when you were born and for a time after that. A year before your mom got pregnant with Sam, my mom was pregnant with me. She left her post and erased herself from your life... literally."

Dean's eyes were wide, his mind racing. "So... what did she say when you told her about me?"

"She said we're a bad idea. That falling in love with my assignment would end badly."

Dean scoffed and ripped up the photo, tossing the pieces onto the floor. "Well, respectfully, your mom is wrong."

"Dean!" Nadia jumped up quickly, her voice sharp as she picked up the shredded photo. "What the hell?"

"Baby," Dean stood up, moving closer to her. "We've already had this discussion. You're my girl, not my guardian angel. I don't want any angel looking after me, if you haven't noticed."

Nadia's expression grew serious, and she shook her head. "That's not the point, Dean."

"So, what is?" he asked, his voice steady but concerned.

"You're so important that angels have been watching over you since you were in the womb," she explained, her tone soft but firm. "Whatever they want from you is huge, but we also don't know if we can trust all of them. You need guidance, protection—everything my mom was going to give you. Naturally, that makes me next in line." Her voice took on a defiant edge. "And if you think I'm going to sit by and watch angels like Uriel give you crap when you're the one they need, then you obviously don't know me very well."

Dean sighed, taking her hands in his. "I hear you, Robin. I'm not saying I don't want you to have my back. I'm just saying, let's not get caught up in all this angel politics crap. If you get too deep, the lines blur, and it'll be a mess. I meant it when I said that if there's any angel I can believe in, it's you. I know you can't help who you are, but I just want you." He squeezed her hands gently. "Isn't that enough?"

"Yes, but..." Nadia sighed, looking away as if weighing her words. "We don't know how big this apocalypse thing really is. These angels are obviously not playing around. You might need 'angel me' more than 'girlfriend me.'"

"Yeah?" Dean pulled her close by the waist, his voice quiet but insistent.

"Uh, yeah." Nadia's voice grew serious. "Dean, this is the end of the world we're talking about. These angels are not going to go easy on you. Look at Uriel—"

Dean interrupted her with a kiss on the lips, silencing her. The ripped photo slipped from her fingers, but so did every worry in her mind. As their lips met, an instantaneous peace washed over her. The chaos, the weight of everything, just seemed to disappear in the comfort of his embrace.

Nadia wrapped her arms around his neck, guiding him backward onto the bed, their lips still locked in a slow, deep kiss. When they finally parted, they were both out of breath, but smiling.

Dean squinted at her with a mischievous grin. "What were you saying?"

Nadia chuckled, pressing her lips against his once more. "I have no idea."

They both gazed at each other, their smiles so wide their cheeks ached.

Dean's hands slid up her thighs, his fingers grazing the soft fabric of her shirt before gently sliding underneath it. He traced his fingertips along the sides of her torso, sending a shiver down her spine. Closing his eyes, he felt the warmth of her body as she tugged at his collar, her lips trailing light kisses from his chest to his neck, until finally, their mouths found each other again in a kiss that was slow and burning with anticipation.

Nadia moaned softly against his lips, her body moving against his in rhythmic instinct. Dean's hands gripped her hips, pulling her closer, the heat between them growing by the second. He bucked his hips, matching her movements, and the friction ignited the growing fire of passion between them.

Every touch, every movement, felt like gasoline thrown on a wildfire, intensifying their desire with each passing second.

Nadia pulled away from him just long enough to unbuckle his belt, her fingers quickly working to unbutton his jeans. Dean mirrored her actions, pulling his shirt off in one smooth motion. Nadia slid off the bed, pulling his jeans and boxers down with her. She tossed them aside with a flick of her wrist, then, with a smirk, tossed his wallet at him.

Dean watched her, his gaze fixed on her as she removed the rest of her clothes. Her form was a vision of vulnerability, standing before him with a quiet strength that made his heart race. Despite the doubt and worry she'd shown only moments ago, there was nothing but confidence in her eyes now. She was here, with him, in this moment, and nothing else mattered. Not the past, not the future, and especially not the angels who seemed to loom so large in her life.

When Nadia climbed back onto the bed, she straddled him with a slow, deliberate movement. Dean quickly reached into his wallet, his hand steady as he pulled out the condom, ripping it open and sliding it on with practiced ease. He pushed himself up on his elbows, meeting her lips halfway, the kiss deepening with a hungry urgency.

As their kiss broke, a gasp escaped Nadia's lips as she sank onto him. She held herself steady for a moment, adjusting, the sensation of him filling her making her pulse quicken. She flipped her locs out of her face, her eyes locking with his as she began to rock her hips in a slow, steady rhythm.

Dean groaned, his breath catching in his throat as he placed one firm hand on her hip, intertwining his fingers with hers. Their gazes never faltered, both of them caught between the growing pleasure and the need to hold onto this connection, this moment that was just theirs. The urge to close their eyes in bliss was overwhelming, but they fought it, unwilling to break the contact, unwilling to let go of the intimacy they were sharing.

Nadia's grip tightened on his wrist, her breath becoming jagged as she moved faster, riding him with increasing speed. Her movements grew erratic, and it was clear she was close. Dean's grip shifted, now taking hold of her other hip, guiding her as he steered her movements with his hands. He could feel the tension building within him, the pressure mounting toward an inevitable release.

Nadia reached her peak first, her head falling back in pleasure as a loud moan escaped her lips. The sound was like a spark igniting his own release. Dean's body shuddered beneath her, his own climax hitting him hard and fast. He let out a low groan, his hands moving to hold her as they both rode out the waves of their shared ecstasy.

Nadia collapsed onto his chest, breathless, a winded chuckle escaping her lips as she rested her head against him, the steady rhythm of their heartbeats the only sound that filled the room.

They locked eyes, their gazes softening, a silent understanding passing between them. Dean kissed her again, slow and tender, as the last echoes of their pleasure faded.

"Gotta sweet tooth tonight, huh?" Drew said with a chuckle as he rang up the snacks at Canaan's corner store. He gave Nadia an easy smile, his voice light with the kind of small-town familiarity that always made her feel at home.

Nadia glanced at the counter, her eyes scanning the endless rows of candy and junk food, the comfort foods that had always been her guilty pleasure. Tonight, though, it wasn't about comfort; it was about rebellion.

"Since our parents are away, we decided to stay up late and pig out for dinner. Luckily for Ben, he'll bounce back. I have a feeling I'll regret it later," Nadia replied with a laugh, adding a few more candy bars to her pile.

"Oh, how I miss the days when I could down cola and candy until my stomach hurt and still live to tell the story," Drew said, shaking his head nostalgically as he scanned the items.

Nadia smiled faintly, her thoughts drifting for a moment. "Tell me about it. Now all I look forward to is a stiff drink and naps. Gotta love the adult life."

"Said no one ever," Drew grinned, making Nadia chuckle again. He handed her the receipt after she swiped her card. "You have a good night, Nadie."

"You too, Drew," she said with a tired smile, taking the bag of snacks from him. She stepped outside, the cool night air brushing her skin, a reminder of how late it was. But the street was quiet, and the sound of her footsteps echoed as she made her way down the sidewalk.

She looked ahead, spotting Ben standing in his usual spot just outside the store. His posture was still, hands clasped behind his back, his face expressionless. It struck her as odd for a moment, but it was Ben, right? She didn't think anything of it at first, even as she walked toward him.

But as she got closer, something felt... off. His usual smirk, the little quirks of his expression, weren't there. He looked almost too still, too composed. It wasn't like him to stand there without a word, without some kind of commentary.

It wasn't until she was nearly right in front of him that the weight of the situation hit her. This wasn't right. The air felt thick, almost like a weight pressing down on her, like a dream on the cusp of unraveling.

Nadia froze, her steps halting just as she reached Ben. Her breath caught in her throat.

"I'm dreaming, aren't I, Michael?" she said, her voice flat but with an edge of irritation. She was tired of these visits, tired of Michael poking around in her head through her memories, using her brother like some kind of puppet.

"Hello, Nadia. Nice to see you," Michael's voice came through Ben's lips. He sounded calm, almost like he was being polite, but there was a certain coldness behind it that made her stomach tighten.

Nadia crossed her arms over her chest, standing her ground. "What do you want this time?" Her tone was more annoyed than anything else.

"I wanted to see if you found your grace," Michael replied, his gaze steady, though his expression—Ben's expression—was devoid of warmth.

"I did," Nadia answered quickly, not missing a beat. She had found it, but it wasn't as simple as just finding it. She hadn't told anyone. Not yet. And maybe not ever. The silence between them stretched on for a moment, then she added, "But, uh, not before I talked to my mother. I needed to see if it was something I really wanted."

Michael tilted his head slightly, the familiar expression of curiosity flickering in Ben's eyes. "You spoke with your mother? How?"

Nadia exhaled slowly, crossing her arms tighter as she leaned against the wall of the store. "I went back in time," she said casually, as though it wasn't anything out of the ordinary. "Asked her some questions. About the angels. About you. About what you need from Dean."

Michael's expression remained unchanged, but she could tell he was taking it all in. His gaze sharpened ever so slightly as if he were piecing something together in his mind.

"It's a big ask for a fight that has nothing to do with him," Nadia muttered under her breath, but Michael heard it. "Dean doesn't deserve to be tangled up in your mess."

A brief silence passed before Michael responded. "He'll be the hero," he said, his voice almost too smooth, too calm. "He gets to save the world."

Nadia shook her head, a small scoff escaping her lips. "But it isn't that simple, is it, Uncle Mike?" she shot back, crossing her arms. "He sacrifices his life, and your brotherly feud still affects the world. No?"

Michael's expression flickered, but only for a moment. His calm façade didn't break, though. "I won't lie to you," he said, his voice quieter now. "There will be casualties. There are always casualties. But isn't that what's so beautiful about humanity? You're all so... resilient."

Nadia didn't flinch, didn't look away. She met his gaze head-on, her eyes steady. "Yeah, maybe," she said slowly, the weight of her words sinking in. "But Dean... I'm not sure he'll find meaning in sacrificing his life for half of the world."

The words felt heavy, more honest than she had intended them to be. But they were true, and it was hard to deny it. Still, she didn't want to show any vulnerability in front of Michael. He wasn't her ally, even if she understood what he was trying to do.

Michael's brow furrowed ever so slightly. "...It sounds like you haven't told him."

"I haven't," Nadia admitted, the words slipping out before she could stop them. She ran a hand through her hair, trying to find the right words, but they weren't coming. "I don't think he can handle it. Not yet. Not after everything. I don't want to mess with his healing process."

Michael's gaze softened, just a little. "And?"

Nadia sighed, her frustration mounting. "And if he's the only way to save the world..." she started, her voice almost resigned. "I have to try to convince him. Right? It's my job. It was my mother's."

"It's your duty, Nadia," Michael said, his voice flat, but there was something more there now. Almost like a begrudging respect.

"Yeah, exactly." Nadia pulled a lollipop out of the bag, tearing off the wrapper as she popped it into her mouth. She needed something to focus on, to ground herself. "That's what I meant."

Michael studied her for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, in a voice that was almost too gentle, he spoke again. "As much as I appreciate your help, don't think I haven't considered that you care for him."

Nadia's eyes flickered, and she pulled the lollipop from her mouth. "What's that supposed to mean?" Her tone was a mixture of annoyance and confusion, but she wasn't sure if she wanted to hear the answer.

"If you're anything like your mother," Michael said, a slight tilt to his head as he watched her, "then I know how much you care for humanity. Sacrifice... it's difficult. If there was any other way..."

Nadia scoffed lightly, cutting him off. "But there isn't," she said firmly, her gaze unwavering. "So, why don't you let me do my job and stop distorting my memories of my brother and me?"

Michael's face softened for the briefest moment, then he nodded in silent acknowledgment. "Yes, of course. My apologies..."

"Yeah, yeah." Nadia rolled her eyes, unimpressed with his attempt at politeness.

Michael's gaze turned more somber, almost contemplative. "How are you, Nadia? After seeing your mother?"

It was a question that caught her off guard, and for a moment, she hesitated. She wasn't sure if he was truly asking out of concern or if he was playing a part. "Uh, let's just say I've made my peace," she replied with a shrug, trying to downplay the weight of it all.

"Good," Michael said with a small nod, his expression softening in a way that almost seemed... genuine? But before she could dwell on it, he was already turning away. "Well, until next time."

And just like that, he was gone. The memory faded away as quickly as it had come, and Nadia was left standing alone in the silence of the night.

Her eyes fluttered open with a sudden rush of awareness. The cold air and dim streetlights were gone, replaced by the warmth of a room. She blinked in the darkness, her mind still reeling from the dream—or was it?

The room smelled faintly of Dean. She could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath her cheek, his arms wrapped around her, holding her close. It was the middle of the night, and she was safe—*for now*.

But the conversation with Michael lingered, its weight pressing down on her chest. She shifted slightly, trying not to disturb Dean as she stared into the darkness, lost in the quiet chaos of her own thoughts.

Michael believed she was on his side, just like she wanted. Still, it didn't make her feel any less guilty about hiding the truth from Dean.