The Impala sat parked in Bobby's junkyard, the last traces of sunlight painting the horizon in deep orange and dusky purple. Inside, Nadia sat in the backseat, legs curled beneath her, surrounded by open books.

Her notepad lay on her lap, pages filled with scribbled notes, questions, and underlined phrases that had yet to yield any answers. The quiet hum of insects outside provided the only background noise as she flipped another page, her focus intense but growing weary.

Dean approached from the driver's side, his boots crunching against gravel. He hesitated when he saw her through the window, her face illuminated by the fading light. She looked tired, her forehead creased with concentration. Steeling himself, he opened the door and slid into the backseat beside her, the leather creaking under his weight.

"You've been out here all day," Dean's voice was low, tentative. "What are you doing?"

Nadia barely glanced up from the book in her lap, her expression unreadable. "Just reading," she replied, her tone flat but not cold. "Trying to find something useful."

Dean's eyes drifted to the pile of worn, mismatched books beside her—Chuck's so-called gospel of her life. He reached for one, his hand hesitating mid-air when Nadia shook her head.

"Don't bother," she said, closing the book in her hands with a soft thud. "They're not helpful. Nothing we didn't already know—or feared. The only parts that even remotely stand out are my mother's cryptic riddles about Michael and Lucifer."

Dean frowned, lowering his hand. "What kind of riddles?"

Nadia flipped through the pages absently, her brow furrowed. "Things like this: 'You can't cage the fire forever. To end it, you let it burn itself out.' Or here: 'You think victory is your purpose, but maybe it's your undoing.' And this gem: 'The end isn't the end—it's where true choices begin.' Oh, and my favorite: 'The cage wasn't just made to hold one son. When the storm comes, don't lose sight of the bigger picture.'"

Dean's expression darkened at the mention of the cage. "The cage?"

"Yeah." Nadia sighed, shutting the book and resting her head against the car seat. "I have no idea what she means, and honestly, it's not like it helps us stop this train wreck."

"So, that's it? No secret weapon? No divine cheat code?"

Nadia let out a bitter laugh. "You're the secret weapon, Dean," she said, shaking her head. "My mother's 'most important assignment.' And she failed. The crazy part is... I was kind of hoping I'd fail too."

The raw honesty in her voice made Dean's chest tighten. He stayed quiet, letting her continue.

"I'm on the fourth book now," Nadia said, nodding toward the pile. "It dives into my parents' relationship. My dad was the one thing that kept my mother grounded, even with everything falling apart in Heaven. He was her anchor."

Dean's gaze softened as he looked at her. "Sounds like a couple I know."

Nadia gave a faint, dry smile. "I guess history repeats itself—though not completely." She gathered her notebook and the books, stacking them neatly in the front seat.

The silence between them grew heavy, the air thick with unspoken tension. Finally, Dean broke it, his voice low and laced with guilt.

"I didn't know..."

"Didn't know what?" Nadia asked, turning to him.

"I didn't know you struggled," he admitted, his eyes fixed forward. "Between picking the world and me. Picking your family and me. I just... never thought about it that way. I know we've talked, but I guess I didn't really see how much weight you were carrying."

Nadia's shoulders sagged slightly. "It's not just your fault," she said softly. "I could've said more. But between Sam and the angels, I just wanted to be... one less thing."

Dean scoffed, his lips twitching into a bitter smile. "One less thing? Robin, all you've ever asked of me is to be honest. Hell, you don't even complain about my eating."

That earned a small laugh from her. "Stop."

"I'm serious," Dean pressed. "You give me more than I deserve. And that's why... that's why I feel like crap. I let my own feelings get in the way and forgot I've got someone in my corner now. I'm sorry, Nadia. For not talking to you first. That's not what a man who promised to make this all worth it does."

Dean's voice dropped as his eyes met hers, raw and sincere. "I did think about you before I made the call. You're the only person I thought about. But... I've spent my whole life worrying about Sam, keeping him safe, making the calls I thought were best. It's all I know how to do. I didn't mean to shut you out. I was just... scared of losing him. I'm still scared."

Nadia's expression softened, tears threatening to spill. "I know, Dean. I know how much Sam means to you. And I get why you did it. But..." She hesitated, her voice trembling. "I'm scared too. Scared of losing you. Even if it's for the best." She exhaled shakily. "I just need you to be sure, Dean. Whatever happens, if you're going to let the angels use you, you need to be sure it's what you want."

Dean ran a hand down his face, the weight of his choices pressing down on him. "I'm not sure," he confessed, his voice cracking. "Hell, I'm not even close. But when I saw him today, it was like... nothing else mattered. All I can think about is saving him."

Nadia reached out, her hand brushing his.

Dean turned his hand over, letting his fingers intertwine with hers. His voice was almost pleading. "No matter what comes... I need you with me, Nadia. I want you by my side. And I know I screwed up, but... can you forgive me?"

A bittersweet smile touched her lips as she cupped his face, her thumb brushing against his cheek. "Dean, you're impossible," she murmured, her voice soft but full of warmth. "But yeah... I forgive you."

Dean leaned in, their foreheads touching briefly before he closed the distance, pressing his lips to hers. The kiss was soft. Unhurried, and filled with everything they couldn't put into words. When they pulled apart, their eyes locked, and suddenly there was an understanding between them.

The world outside was still ending, and Sam was still suffering, but at that moment, they were together.

Dean's fingers traced the curve of her neck, firm yet reverent, as his lips found hers in a kiss that spoke of more than desire—it was devotion, a raw, unguarded need to claim the moment before it slipped away.

Nadia met his fervor with her own, her hands fisting in his shirt, pulling him closer until there was no space left between them. Their mouths collided hungrily, their breaths mingling as they drowned in the heat of each other. She tugged him even closer, a low moan escaping her lips as their tongues tangled in a rhythm that was as primal as it was passionate.

When Nadia finally broke the kiss, her forehead resting against his as she gasped for air, the chaos of the world outside felt miles away. The apocalypse may have loomed like a storm on the horizon, but in this fleeting moment, none of it mattered. The only sound was the thunderous beat of her heart, echoing the ache in her chest.

Dean didn't let the space linger. His lips were on hers again, insistent, needy, as he guided her back onto the seat. His weight pressed down on her, grounding her, consuming her, and she surrendered to it willingly. His hands roamed, exploring the length of her thighs before pulling her hips flush against him. The hardness of his arousal pressed into her, and she gasped against his mouth, her nails digging into his shoulders.

Dean pulled back just enough to meet her gaze. His green eyes burned with a question of whether the timing was appropriate for a moment such as this.

Nadia's response was wordless but clear. She gripped the collar of his jacket, dragging him back to her lips in a fiery kiss that left no room for doubt.

Dean groaned low in his throat, a sound that sent shivers racing down her spine. His hands slid up her sides, over the curve of her waist, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. As her fingers worked to free him of his jacket, he shrugged it off impatiently, then yanked his shirt over his head. Her hands roamed over the hard planes of his chest, savoring the warmth of his skin beneath her fingertips.

He kissed her again, this time slower, deeper, as his hands slipped beneath the hem of her top. With a practiced ease, he pulled it over her head, discarding it somewhere behind him.

The cool air brushed her bare skin, but it was nothing compared to the fire raging within her. Dean's lips found her collarbone, trailing kisses down her neck as his hands mapped every curve of her body. She arched into him, a soft moan escaping her lips as he pressed open-mouthed kisses to the swell of her breasts.

Her fingers found the waistband of his jeans, fumbling with the button until it popped free. Dean chuckled lowly against her skin, the sound vibrating through her, before helping her push them down his hips. He mirrored her, working the clasp of her jeans until they, too, joined the pile of discarded clothes.

The world around them faded further as their bodies came together in a slow, deliberate rhythm. Every movement, every kiss, every brush of skin against skin was a reminder of what they had, of the fragility of the moment and the ferocity with which they clung to it. Her legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer as he moved inside her, a perfect rhythm that sent sparks of pleasure racing through her body.

"Dean," she whispered, his name a prayer on her lips as she dug her nails into his back. The coil of tension within her tighter with every thrust, every whispered word, until it finally snapped, sending waves of ecstasy crashing through her. She cried out, her body trembling against his as he followed her over the edge, his release shuddering through him with a low groan.

For a moment, time stood still. The only sounds were their ragged breaths and the faint creak of the Impala's leather seats. Dean's arms tightened around her, pulling her against his chest as they lay tangled together. The world outside was still there, waiting, but for now, in the cocoon of the Impala, they had found something worth fighting for.

Nadia sighed softly as Dean pressed a kiss to her temple, their bodies still entwined. Together, they drifted into an uneasy sleep, wrapped in each other and the fleeting peace of the moment.

Nadia's angelic senses jolted her awake. She sat up quickly, her breath visible in the frigid night air that seeped into the Impala. A shiver ran down her spine as she rubbed her arms for warmth. "Castiel?" she said aloud, the name escaping her lips like a warning.

The sound stirred Dean, who groaned softly as he sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. The cold reminded him that he was stark naked in the back of the car. "Did you say Castiel?" His voice was hoarse, tinged with confusion and annoyance.

"Yeah." Nadia began pulling on her clothes hurriedly, her movements sharp and focused. "I can sense him." She froze mid-motion, her head tilting slightly as if listening for something only she could hear. "Well, I did a second ago." Her gaze shifted toward the horizon, catching the faint rumble of an engine in the distance. Her brow furrowed. "Something's wrong. Get dressed," she urged, her tone leaving no room for argument.

Dean didn't hesitate. He reached for his jeans and shirt, dressing quickly in the cramped space. The tension in her voice had set him on edge.

Mostly dressed and a little disheveled, the two made their way into the house, their breaths puffing out in the chill. The dim interior was eerily silent. "Bobby?" Dean called, his voice echoing faintly. No response.

Nadia's sharp eyes caught movement—the back door, ajar, creaking softly in the breeze. She and Dean exchanged a look, silent understanding passing between them.

"Sam!" Dean's voice was urgent as he bolted for the basement. Nadia headed for the backyard, her instincts guiding her. She found Bobby lying on the cold ground near his rifle. Her heart skipped a beat as she crouched beside him, fingers pressing to his neck. Relief flooded her when she felt a steady pulse. He stirred, groaning softly as his eyes fluttered open.

"Bobby," Nadia whispered, her tone gentle but insistent. "Can you hear me? What happened?"

Bobby winced, his hand moving to the back of his head. "Balls!" His voice was gruff, tinged with pain.

"Who did this?" Nadia muttered, scanning the dark yard for any sign of movement.

Before Bobby could answer, Dean burst through the back door, his expression wild.

"Is Sam okay?" Nadia stood, her voice sharp with concern.

Dean's face fell, his throat bobbing as he swallowed hard. "Worse," he said, his breath visible in the freezing air. "He's gone."

Bobby groaned, struggling to sit up. With a grunt, he got to his feet, leaning heavily on Nadia's arm. The three of them moved quickly to the basement, dread pooling in their chests.

The panic room door stood wide open. Inside, the cot lay abandoned, the cuffs unlatched and dangling mockingly.

"How the hell did he get out?" Nadia's voice cut through the heavy silence, her eyes fixed on the cot.

"Maybe he had help," Bobby said grimly, pointing to the floor. "Room full of busted devil's traps."

Dean's jaw tightened. "Demons?" His voice rose, panic bleeding into the words. "Ruby?"

"That'd be my guess," Bobby said.

Dean stepped closer, his hand brushing the cold steel of the door. "How did she even touch the door?"

"You think she's got the mojo?" Bobby asked, his expression skeptical.

Dean shook his head, frustration etched into his features. "I didn't think so."

As the two men debated, Bobby's sharp gaze landed on Nadia. She had gone quiet, her brow furrowed in thought. "Nadie?" he prompted.

She blinked, her focus snapping back to them. "I don't think it was Ruby," she said firmly, her tone laced with certainty. "What I sensed wasn't a demon. It was an angel. Castiel."

Dean's head tilted, his disbelief evident. "No way, Robin. Why would Castiel let Sam free?"

"I don't know," Nadia admitted, her voice steady. "You're the one who said he's been different since coming back from Heaven."

Dean crouched, his fingers brushing the shattered devil's trap on the floor. "I don't know, Robin."

"What difference does it make?" Bobby said gruffly. "How he got gone ain't as important as where he got gone to."

Dean straightened, his eyes dark with determination. "Well, I'll tell you one thing. At this point, I hope he's with Ruby."

"Why?" Bobby asked, his brows knitting together.

"'Cause killing her's the next big item on my to-do list," Dean said coldly. He looks at Nadia. "You with me?"

"I'm with you," she replied without hesitation, brushing past him toward the stairs.

Dean smirked faintly as he followed her. 

"Thought you were on call for angel duty," Bobby called after him.

"I am on call," Dean said matter-of-factly. "In my car, on my way to murder the bitch."

"One thing." 

They stopped, both turning to face Bobby. 

"Sam don't wanna be found," Bobby said knowingly. "Which means he's gonna be damn near impossible to find."

Dean's jaw clenched as he exchanged a glance with Nadia. "Yeah, we'll see." He reached out, patting her on the hip as they climbed the stairs, determination etched into every step.