It was one of those nights—Nadia was exhausted, but sleep wouldn't come. Her mind was too full, too chaotic. Her mother, especially. The face she had seen earlier wasn't really Vanessa, but it still stirred up old feelings of guilt—feelings she thought she'd buried long ago.

Now, the apocalypse was on the horizon, and memories of her mother were resurfacing. She hadn't been able to forget them entirely, but she had tried to push them to the back of her mind. Her mother had never just read her the lore; she'd *taught* her.

Nadia couldn't quite recall all the specifics, but she knew the information was there, locked in the darker corners of her mind. She didn't understand why her mother had shared such knowledge with her.

What was a child supposed to do with the knowledge of an impending apocalypse?

Nadia had so many questions and, at the same time, didn't want to know the answers. Her life had already been difficult enough; diving into this mess felt like opening a can of worms she wasn't sure she could close again. She was here to fight, but she hoped to keep her personal life out of it as much as possible.

If she could.

She gazed up at the stars from the bed of her truck, lost in thought. She was so deep in her own head that she didn't hear Dean approach until his voice cut through the silence.

"You okay?"

Nadia looked up at him, blinking as if snapping out of a trance. "Yeah. I, uh, talked to my dad. They were on a camping trip. No signal. But they're fine."

Dean raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. "I didn't ask about your family. I asked if you were *okay.*"

She shrugged, trying to brush it off. "Me? I will be."

Nadia extended her hand, and Dean pulled her to her feet.

"So," she said, standing up straight, "is this the part where you ask what happened to my mother?"

Dean hesitated for just a second. "You don't have to tell me."

"No, it's okay," Nadia said, her voice a little softer now. "I think I need to... get it out. It's been a minute."

She paused, eyes drifting back to the stars as she took a deep breath, searching for the right words.

"As you know, I was born into the life," she started, her voice quiet but steady. "By the time I was three, I knew the basics—salt lines, holy water, flickering lights, sulfur... the whole gig. Since Dad was always on the road, Mom and I had a strict protocol. If we sensed even the slightest danger, we went to the attic, laid down the salt, grabbed the holy water, and waited until the coast was clear."

Nadia swallowed hard, trying to keep the emotion in check. "I was five at the time. It was an ordinary day. Dad was on the road, I had a good day at school, and Mom was still in her scrubs, cooking dinner. I was in my room, playing with my toys. I knew evil was real, but I had that innocent obliviousness, you know? Like, bad things happened to other people, not to me. Not when my dad saved people for a living."

Tears welled up in her eyes. She took a shaky breath and continued, her voice trembling.

"The lights started flickering. And then, there was a storm outside. For the first time, I felt it—danger. Evil. I ran out of my room to get my mom, and I got to the top of the stairs when she yelled my name in a way that made my blood run cold. 'Hide,' she told me. So, I did. My mind was racing—I didn't know if demons were coming for me or what. I just pulled the attic stairs down, climbed up, and barely got it closed behind me. I laid down the salt and hid in the corner with a flask of holy water."

Her voice broke as the tears fell freely now. "I can still hear her screams. When the lights stopped flickering and everything went quiet, I knew she was gone. But I didn't move. I waited two days until Dad got home and found me. I remember just... apologizing. I felt like it was my fault. Like I could've done something."

Dean stepped forward, wrapping his arms around her in a comforting embrace. "Hey, hey," he murmured, his voice low and soothing. "It's not your fault, Robin. You were a kid. You were scared. You did what you were supposed to do. Imagine how devastated your father would have been if he lost you both."

He pulled back slightly, gently wiping her tears. "Your mom sacrificed herself so you could live. Without you, all those people you've saved would be dead. And you never would've met me."

Nadia let out a shaky laugh, her breath hitching. "Dean, can you be serious for one moment?"

"I am," he replied, a grin tugging at his lips, despite the gravity of the moment. "I just wanted to make you smile. And I am serious. Trust me, you've got to let go of the guilt. You go down that road, and it's downhill every time."

"You're right," Nadia agreed, her voice softer now, as she stuffed her hands into her pockets. "And you do too."

Dean frowned. "What do you mean?"

"You're not having a hard time believing in angels. You just can't accept that you were chosen for something greater than what you've already been doing all your life. So, what, you've broken hearts and taken names? In the end, you're still the guy willing to put his life on the line. That makes you just as valuable as anyone else. You can't focus on what you've done. We've got bigger problems now."

Dean's eyes softened as he took a step closer, an intense look in his eyes. "We?"

Nadia's heart skipped a beat, but she forced herself to stay composed as she met his gaze. She felt the tension between them, the pull that had been building for days. He reached out, gently brushing a dread loc out of her face, his fingers lingering just a moment too long.

She gulped, lost in his green eyes under the moonlight. Every conversation, every smile, every glance—they all brought them closer. It had only been a week, but it felt like they'd known each other forever. They were comfortable around each other, like they could read each other's minds without saying a word.

But the connection between them was undeniable, and Nadia couldn't shake the feeling that things were moving faster than she was ready for.

"Dean," she groaned, turning away to break the spell. "We can't—"

"You feel it too, don't you?" Dean interrupted, his voice low.

"I do," Nadia admitted, her voice barely a whisper. "But like you said, nothing's a coincidence. I don't want to cross a line that we can't come back from, you know?"

Dean chuckled softly, a hint of disappointment in his eyes. "Yeah," he said, though it was clear he didn't like it.

"Dean I -" 

"No, no, you're right," he agreed, almost too quickly, as if trying to convince himself. "Really."

She could see the struggle on his face, but he nodded, accepting her decision. Nadia felt bad, but she also knew it was the right thing.

"We can be friends," Dean said, thinking out loud. "I mean, you're attractive, I'm attractive... why not be attractive friends?"

Nadia raised an eyebrow. "Something tells me you don't have a lot of female friends."

Dean smirked. "I'll have you know I have plenty of female friends that I haven't... you know..."

"I'll give you five bucks if you can name one," Nadia interrupted, teasing.

Dean paused, thinking for a second, then grinned. "Well, there's you... I mean, for now."

Nadia laughed, rolling her eyes. "I walked right into that one, but nice try."

She nudged him playfully as they headed inside the house, both of them feeling the weight of their unspoken feelings, but for now, at least, they were taking things one step at a time.

Nadia woke up the following day feeling ten times better. The weight that had been pressing down on her seemed lighter, mostly because of her conversation with Dean the night before. It wouldn't be easy to ignore the connection between them, but at least they had agreed to stay friends—for now.

"Here you go," Sam said, handing her a cup of coffee and keeping one for himself.

"Thank you," Nadia replied, sitting behind Bobby's desk with her feet kicked up. Bobby was upstairs, still asleep, and so was Dean, who had made a makeshift pallet on the floor.

Sam settled on the couch, setting his coffee at his feet. "Were both your parents hunters?" he asked, casually buttoning up his shirt over his t-shirt.

"No, just my dad," Nadia replied. "My mom was a CNA. He was on a case when they met. The elderly home she worked at was haunted, and she actually helped him solve the case."

"But she never got into the life?"

"Nah," Nadia said, shaking her head. "She preferred working. Loved taking care of people—was really good with them. My dad traveled a lot while she held down the fort."

"Wow," Sam said, surprised. "It can be hard to date someone who doesn't understand the life. Let alone get married."

"Yeah, well, my mom was rare... fearless," Nadia added, a hint of admiration in her voice. "Most people get scared when they find out about what we do, but not her. She wasn't scared of anything."

"She sounds cool," Sam remarked, noticing the proud look in Nadia's eyes.

"She was," Nadia smiled softly, a touch of sadness in her expression. She took a sip of her coffee.

A peaceful silence settled between them until Dean suddenly woke up, startled. Disoriented, he sat up, taking a deep breath and rubbing his eyes.

"You all right?" Sam asked.

Dean said nothing, just squinted, as if trying to figure out where he was.

"Bad dream?" Nadia guessed.

Little did she know, Dean had spoken to Castiel in his dreams.

Dean cleared his throat, his voice hoarse. "So..." he started, his words slow and deliberate, "you got no problem believing in... God and Angels?"

Sam and Nadia exchanged a quick look, both shaking their heads. "No, not really," Nadia answered, her tone casual.

Dean tilted his head, scoffing a little. "So I guess that means you believe in the Devil?"

Sam frowned, his curiosity piqued. "Why are you asking us this?"

Dean opened his mouth as if to say something, then just shook his head, speechless.