Nadia paced slowly along the side of the road, her boots crunching softly against the gravel, the empty stretch of land ahead of her a blur of tall, rustling grass.

The night was cold for spring, but the chill didn't seem to touch her; her mind was elsewhere, too preoccupied to notice the sharp gusts of wind whipping around her. Her thoughts raced, frantic, bouncing between the breaking seals, Sam, and the overwhelming sense of helplessness that was creeping in at the edges of her awareness.

The flutter of wings made her stop in her tracks, her breath catching in her throat. She turned quickly, a wave of relief washing over her as she saw Anna step into view, her red hair shimmering in the moonlight like fire. Anna's posture was tense, her face tight with the same anxious frustration that Nadia was feeling.

"What is going on?" Nadia asked, skipping the usual pleasantries. There was no time for small talk now, not when everything was unraveling. "Where are the angels? Seals are breaking faster than they ever have."

Anna's expression darkened, her eyes flicking to the horizon before returning to Nadia. "I know." Her voice faltered, the urgency in her tone unmistakable. The panic was there, simmering just beneath the surface. "It's happening than anticipated."

"Usually, Castiel, somebody would drop in, give us some kind of lead or test." Nadia's frustration was clear, her voice rising slightly. She crossed her arms over her chest, looking up at Anna with pleading eyes. "Please, Anna, tell me you have something. Anything."

Anna opened her mouth, but no words came. Her gaze dropped, guilt and helplessness flashing across her face. She was as much of an outsider as Nadia, just another fugitive in this growing storm. She didn't have answers.

"I'm sorry," Anna said quietly, regret in her voice. "I only know about Sam. How's that going?"

Nadia scoffed, her laugh dry and humorless. She shook her head, the weight of everything pulling at her chest. "Oh, it's a grand time." She turned away, looking out at the vast, empty field, her shoulders slumping with exhaustion.

Anna hesitated before asking, "Have you spoken to Castiel?"

Nadia exhaled sharply. "No," she replied, turning back around to face the other woman. Her expression was heavy, troubled. "Dean said that he was different the last time they saw him. Saying he didn't serve humanity or Heaven."

"Sounds like they really got to him up there." Anna's tone was wry, but there was a worried edge to her words.

"I thought the same thing," Nadia murmured, her voice faltering as her thoughts turned inward. "Should I be worried? About him? About all of this? Are we really gonna lose?" Her voice cracked at the end, the vulnerability she'd been holding back threatening to spill over. Tears welled in her eyes, blurring her vision. "Was my mom right? Was all this for nothing?"

Anna reached out, her fingers gently taking Nadia's hand in a comforting gesture. The touch was grounding, a lifeline. "Hey," she said softly, her voice firm yet reassuring, "It's not over yet." She gave Nadia a small, reassuring smile, though her own eyes were shadowed with the weight of the coming battle. "I'll talk to Castiel and check back in with you. Okay?"

Nadia swallowed hard, blinking away the threat of tears before they could fall. She nodded her voice barely a whisper. "Yeah. Okay. Thank you."

Nadia watched her, her heart heavy but grateful, as the angel disappeared into the night with the flutter of wings, leaving only the quiet of the darkened road in her wake.

The junkyard was quiet except for the occasional creak of rusted metal and the distant blare of a train horn cutting through the cold night air. Dean paced, his boots crunching against the gravel, his breath visible in the frigid chill. The moon hung high, casting a pale glow over the rows of battered cars and discarded machinery. He shoved his hands into his jacket pockets, his nerves fraying with every passing second.

For over two hours, he'd been calling out, waiting for some sign of heaven or hell, screaming into the void until his voice was raw. The silence had been deafening, his pleas unanswered. His mind raced, full of questions and fears he couldn't shake. Then, the familiar flutter of wings made him whirl around, his heart thudding in his chest.

There stood Castiel, half-hidden in the shadows of the garage, his face unreadable beneath the dim light of a flickering bulb.

"Well, it's about time," Dean rasped, his voice hoarse. He wiped a hand across his face, trying to steady himself. "I've been screaming myself hoarse out here for about two and a half hours now."

Castiel tilted his head slightly. "What do you want?"

"You can start with what the hell happened in Illinois."

Castiel stepped closer, his movements deliberate, almost too calm for a world on the brink of destruction. "What do you mean?"

Dean's jaw tightened, his frustration bubbling over. "Cut the crap. You were gonna tell me something."

The angel's face remained stoic. "Well, nothing of import," he replied flatly.

Dean stared at him, his disbelief giving way to anger. "You got ass-rammed in heaven, but it was 'not of import'?"

For the briefest moment, Castiel's eyes flickered with something—fear, desperation—but he quickly looked away, his gaze falling to the ground. "Dean... I can't. I'm sorry."

The apology hung heavy in the cold air.

Dean blinked, his frustration momentarily eclipsed by confusion. Castiel's behavior wasn't just off—it was unrecognizable. This wasn't the angel he thought he knew.

Castiel turned his back, walking a few paces away as if putting distance between them would make his words easier to say. "Tell me what you really want. To talk about Sam, right?"

Dean hesitated, the weight of the question settling on his shoulders. "...Can he do it?" he asked finally. "Kill Lilith, stop the apocalypse?"

"Possibly, yes," Castiel replied, turning back to face him. His brow furrowed, his expression heavy with concern. "But as you know, he'd have to take certain steps."

Dean nodded, his frown deepening. "Crank up the hell-blood regimen."

Castiel's voice was steady, but the words cut through Dean like a blade. "Consuming the amount of blood it would take to kill Lilith would change your brother forever. Most likely, he would become the next creature you'd feel compelled to kill."

Dean's jaw clenched, his hands balling into fists at his sides.

"There's no reason this would have to come to pass, Dean." Castiel stepped closer, his piercing blue eyes locking onto Dean's. "We believe it's you, not your brother. The only question for us is whether you're willing to accept it."

"You are the one who will stop it."

Dean gulped, his desperation to save Sam warring with the gnawing dread in his gut. He looked away, his thoughts racing. Finally, he took a deep breath, steeling himself. "If I do this... Sammy doesn't have to?"

"If it gives you comfort to see it that way," Castiel replied, his voice devoid of emotion.

Dean scoffed, shaking his head. "God, you're a dick these days."

Castiel said nothing, his silence pressing on Dean like a weight.

Dean exhaled sharply, his decision made. He couldn't let Sam go down this path, not when there was still a chance to stop it. Nadia's face flashed in his mind for a brief moment, but he pushed it aside. He couldn't think about her now. This was about saving his brother.

"Fine," Dean said, his voice low but resolute. He kept his back to Castiel, his shoulders tense. "I'm in."

"You give yourself over wholly to the service of God and his angels?" Castiel asked.

Dean squeezed his eyes shut, his breath hitching. "Yeah, exactly."

"Say it," Castiel pressed.

Dean turned slowly, his eyes narrowing as he gauged the angel's seriousness. They stared at each other for a long moment, the tension palpable.

Finally, Dean stepped forward, his voice clipped as he repeated the words. "I give myself over wholly to serve God and you guys."

Castiel nodded solemnly, though his eyes betrayed a flicker of unease.

"Now what?" Dean asked, his voice rough.

"Now you wait," Castiel said simply. "And we call on you when it's time."

The two men stood in silence, the tension between them thicker than the chill in the air.

The flutter of wings was gone, leaving Dean alone in the cold night air. He stood motionless for a moment, staring at the spot where Castiel had disappeared. The weight of his decision pressed down on him, heavy and suffocating. His chest felt tight, his breaths shallow as he replayed the angel's words in his head.

You give yourself over wholly to the service of God and his angels.

Dean shoved his hands into his jacket pockets, his jaw clenching. It was the only choice he could live with—saving Sam had to come first. But as he turned toward the house, a new thought clawed its way to the surface.

What the hell am I gonna tell Nadia?

Sam's screams echoed through the walls, raw and relentless. His voice, hoarse from hours of pleading, carried the kind of desperation that made Bobby pause mid-sip of his coffee. He called out for his brother, his cries turning to frantic, tear-laced pleas for Nadia. It was the kind of sound that turned even the bravest hearts cold.

Nadia wasn't there to hear it—she was out grabbing breakfast. The uneasy quiet she'd left behind had long since been shattered.

Upstairs in Bobby's study, Dean leaned against the doorway, his arms crossed tightly over his chest as he relayed his conversation with Castiel. The sunlight streaming through the window cast a golden glow over Bobby's desk, but the warmth did nothing to soften the steel in Bobby's gaze.

"Correct me if I'm wrong," Bobby said, squinting slightly, his tone as dry as the pages of one of his old books. "But you willingly signed up to be the angels' bitch?"

Dean stiffened, glaring at him, his jaw working silently.

"I'm sorry," Bobby added with mock sincerity. "You prefer sucker?"

Dean's lips pressed into a tight line as he looked away, his shoulders coiled like a spring.

"After everything you said about them, now you trust them?" Bobby pressed. He stepped forward, leaning on the desk, his eyes narrowing. "Did you talk to Nadia first? Does she even know?"

Dean tilted his head, avoiding the older man's gaze. The truth, unsaid but loud enough in his silence, filled the room.

"Oh, son," Bobby muttered, shaking his head. There was no anger in his voice—just deep, unmistakable disappointment.

"Come on, give me a little credit, Bobby," Dean snapped, pushing himself off the doorframe. He took a few steps into the room, gesturing emphatically. "I've never trusted them less. I mean, they come on like shady politicians from planet Vulcan."

"Then why not talk to the one angel you can trust?" Bobby fired back. "Why in the hell did you—"

"Because what other option do I have?!" Dean's voice broke as it rose, frustration and guilt cracking through. "It's either trust the angels or let Sammy trust a demon!"

The tension in the room swelled like a thunderhead. Bobby studied Dean for a long moment, his eyes softened by understanding, though his disapproval didn't waver.

"I see your point," Bobby conceded, though the words were heavy with reluctance.

Dean exhaled sharply, some of the tension leaving his frame, but Bobby wasn't finished.

"But," Bobby added firmly, "you need to tell Nadia when she gets back."

"I am," Dean said quickly, the defensiveness in his tone betraying his hesitation. "I plan to."

A silence fell over them, heavy and uneasy. It was only broken when Dean's head tilted slightly, his brow furrowing.

"You hear that?" he asked, his voice low.

Bobby straightened, his eyes darting toward the hallway. "Yeah, that's a little too much nothing."

The quiet was deafening—no cries, no thrashing sounds, just an ominous void. Without another word, the two bolted for the basement.

When they reached the panic room, Dean peered through the barred window. His stomach dropped.

Sam was sprawled on the floor, his body convulsing violently. His back arched at a horrifying angle, his muscles seizing as he thrashed uncontrollably. The sharp, guttural sounds he made were worse than screams—they were primal, agonized.

"What if he's faking?" Dean asked, though his voice lacked conviction.

"You really think he would?" Bobby snapped, already working to unlock the door.

Dean swallowed hard, his heart hammering as he kept his eyes on Sam. "I think he'd do anything."

As if on cue, an unseen force jerked Sam across the floor, slamming him upright against the wall. His limbs flailed wildly, his head snapping back and forth as if controlled by invisible strings.

"That ain't faking," Bobby muttered grimly, finally getting the door open.

Inside, chaos erupted. Sam writhed against the wall, his movements jerky and violent. A small table went flying as his foot caught it, crashing against the far wall. Dean and Bobby lunged for him, each grabbing an arm and pulling him to the ground.

"Hold him!" Bobby barked, fumbling to remove his belt. He shoved it between Sam's teeth just in time to prevent him from biting his tongue.

Dean knelt there, gripping Sam's arm tightly, his own hands trembling as his brother's eyes rolled back into his head. His chest heaved with shallow, uneven breaths, each second dragging on like an eternity.

Nadia's voice drifted through the house, growing louder as she called for Bobby and Dean.

"Nadia!" Bobby's shout broke through the din, followed by the sound of frantic footsteps racing down the stairs.

The angel appeared in the doorway, her eyes wide with alarm. "What happened?" she demanded, rushing into the room.

"He's seizing," Bobby explained, his voice clipped. "We're gonna have to tie him off for his own safety. Nadia, take over for me."

But Nadia had already dropped to her knees. Without hesitation, she cradled Sam's head in her lap, her touch gentle yet purposeful.

"It's okay," she whispered, her voice soft and steady. She pressed her palm against his forehead, her fingers glowing faintly as she channeled her grace.

Almost immediately, Sam's body began to relax. His spasms slowed, his breathing steadied, and the tension melted from his frame.

"It's okay," Nadia repeated, her voice like a lullaby. "Just breathe."

Sam's eyes fluttered closed, his face slack and pale. Even unconscious, he looked gaunt—his skin ashen, the dark hollows under his eyes stark against his face.

Bobby exhaled sharply, releasing his grip on Sam's arm. "Well, I'll be damned."

Dean didn't move. He just stared at his brother, his jaw tight, his expression unreadable. For all his usual bravado, he couldn't mask the pain etched into his features.

"He should be out for a little while," Nadia murmured, her own voice trembling slightly as she leaned back.

"Help me get him to the cot," Bobby said, but Dean didn't respond.

"Dean!" Bobby barked, snapping him out of his trance.

"Yeah," Dean said quickly, shaking his head. "Sorry."

Together, they lifted Sam and laid him on the cot. Bobby immediately began securing him, but his gaze flicked to Dean. "You and Nadia should talk."

Nadia's brows knit together. "About what? Did something happen?"

Dean hesitated, guilt flickering across his face. "Uh... yeah, sort of."

Without waiting for her reply, he turned and headed for the stairs. Nadia followed, her concern deepening with each step. She shrugged off her jacket as they stepped into the study, tossing it onto the couch with a casual flick of her wrist. Her eyes lingered on Dean, who still hadn't turned around to face her. The morning light streamed through the window, catching the faint shimmer of dust motes in the air.

"Breakfast is here," she said, nodding toward the kitchen. Her tone was light, though tinged with weariness. "Though after that, I'm not sure any of us have an appetite."

Dean stood stiffly with his back to her, staring at the floor as though it held the answers to everything weighing on his mind. His hands were shoved into his pockets, shoulders tense.

Nadia felt a chill run up her spine. The air around him felt heavy, almost suffocating, and it made her stomach churn. Something was wrong. 

"Batman," she said softly, her voice cutting through the silence. "You're scaring me."

Dean took a deep breath, his chest rising and falling as if he were bracing himself for impact. Finally, he turned to face her. The look in his eyes made her heart sink.

"I told Cas I'd do it," he said, his voice rough.

Nadia's brow furrowed, her lips parting slightly. "Do...?"

"Whatever the angels need me to do," Dean clarified. "To stop all this. To save Sam."

The weight of his words hit her like a physical blow. For a moment, she could only stare at him, her eyebrows raising in disbelief. Her body shifted slightly as if scoffing with more than just her voice. 

"So, you're telling me that you said yes to the same angels you don't even trust, but you didn't consult the one person you claim to trust."

Dean grimaced, running a hand over his face. "I couldn't see another way, Robin."

"You couldn't see another way, or you didn't want to?" Nadia's voice was calm, but the sharpness in her words was impossible to miss.

Dean frowned, his jaw tightening. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"It means you made a decision that affects all of us without even talking to me," she said, her tone steady but cutting. "Dean, this isn't just about you." She let out a bitter chuckle, shaking her head. "It's not even just about Sam."

"It is about Sam!" Dean's voice rose, the strain evident. "He's—he's hanging on by a thread down there, Nadia! If I don't do something, we lose him."

Tears welled in Nadia's eyes, but she refused to let them fall. "And what do I lose, Dean?" she asked, her voice trembling yet measured. "Do you think I don't understand what's at stake? My family is at stake—my brother is at stake. But I still thought about us. I've always kept us in the forefront of my mind. I think about you, and what this would cost you. And you—" She paused, her voice softening but full of pain. "You didn't even think about me."

Guilt flickered across Dean's face, his eyes darting away for a moment. "That's not fair."

"Isn't it?" She tilted her head, her gaze unwavering. "Because to me, it feels fair. I've been trying to protect you from this, Dean. From them. You don't even know half of what they've planned for you."

Dean's jaw clenched, anger bubbling up beneath his guilt. "What do you know that I don't, huh? You've been holding back just as much as I have, so don't act like you're the only one fighting for us."

"I've been fighting for you, Dean," she said sharply, though her voice never rose. "Not just for Sam, or the world. For you. And you threw that away the second you said yes."

The words hit him like a punch to the gut. He flinched, looking at her as though she'd struck him.

"I'm doing what I have to do—for my brother," Dean insisted, though his voice cracked under the weight of his conviction.

Nadia let out a dry laugh, shaking her head. "Yeah, clearly."

The silence that followed was deafening, the air thick with unspoken words and simmering emotions. Nadia's chest rose and fell with each steady breath as she fought to keep her composure.

Bobby's entrance broke the tension like a snap of a twig. He paused in the doorway, looking between them with a furrowed brow. "Am I interrupting something?"

"Not at all," Nadia said, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. Her words were cool, detached. "Dean was just catching me up on his deal with the angels."

Bobby's gaze shifted to her, then to Dean. "What do you think?"

"I think nothing," Nadia replied with a shrug, her expression blank. She glanced at Dean, who shook his head and looked away. "It's already been done, so... it is what it is."

Bobby moved to his desk, leaning his weight on his hands. "Are we absolutely sure we're doing the right thing here?"

"Bobby," Dean said, his voice heavy, "you saw what was happening to him down there. The demon blood is killing him."

"No, it isn't." Bobby's tone was firm, his words cutting through the room like a knife. "We are."

Dean's brow furrowed. "What?"

"I'm sorry," Bobby said, his voice tinged with frustration. "I can't bite my tongue any longer. We're killing him. Keeping him locked up down there—this cold turkey thing—it's not working. If he doesn't get what he needs soon, Sam's not gonna last much longer."

Dean's breath hitched, fear flashing in his eyes. But he shook his head, his voice firm. "No. I'm not giving him demon blood. I won't do it."

Dean lowered his gaze, his tone quieter, raw with emotion. "I would die for him in a second, but I won't let him do this to himself. I can't." He chuckled bitterly.

Bobby sighed, his shoulders slumping. He didn't argue.

The quiet stretched on until the rustle of Nadia's jacket broke the stillness. Both men turned to look at her.

"What are you doing?" Bobby asked, his voice cautious.

"I'm gonna figure a way out of this," Nadia said, her voice clipped as she slipped her jacket back on. Without another glance at Dean, she walked out the door.