October 31, 2008 - The morning of Halloween

I barely slept last night. Too many thoughts running through my mind, too many unanswered questions. We have everything almost figured out. The pieces are there, but something still feels off. I get that Samhain raising demons, evil creatures, makes sense. But destroying an entire town? That feels like overkill. There's something more to this. Something that doesn't fit, and I can't quite place it.

I feel it deep in my gut, that gnawing sensation like a warning. And my gut? It's rarely wrong. Every instinct tells me that the witch behind this isn't just raising Samhain for the chaos; there's a bigger game at play. It's all too calculated. Too... deliberate. But what?

More memories of my mother have been resurfacing. Her teachings. Her wisdom. Her warnings. The subtle things she'd say when she thought I wasn't listening, all the little lessons that seemed unimportant at the time. It's like she knew the world would try to break me, try to make me forget who I am, what I'm capable of. Sometimes I wish she were here now. I need her voice. I need her guidance.

The problem is, she left me with more questions than answers. She buried so much in riddles, in stories. Hidden messages meant to protect me, but now all they do is haunt me. She was preparing me for something, I know that. But for what? And why couldn't she have just said it outright?

I have no choice but to learn as I go. To make sense of everything while I'm in the thick of it. Time's running out, and Halloween is the witch's deadline. I—

Nadia's phone vibrated on the table, snapping her out of her thoughts. She glanced at the screen, surprised to see that it was Irene calling.

"Ben?" Nadia answered, assuming it was him. Considering their sometimes rocky relationship, Irene rarely made an effort to reach out. When she did, it was usually because her father had a breakdown. If it had anything to do with Ben, she'd shoot Nadia a text.

"No, it's not Ben. It's Irene," came the quiet reply.

"Irene!" Nadia smiled, a little surprised. "Hi! I'm sorry to sound so surprised. You're honestly the last person I expected to call me. Is everything okay?"

"Yes, of course. Everything is fine. The boys are great. I just so happen to have mustered up the courage to call and check up on you. We're on better terms than we've ever been since you left, and I want to keep it going, you know?"

Nadia's heart warmed at the words. Irene had never been one to wear her emotions on her sleeve, so hearing her open up like this meant more than Nadia could say.

"You're not busy, are you? I considered you might be out playing FBI or something by this time of day."

"Not playing FBI today," Nadia chuckled softly. "I was doing a little journaling before Dean and I head out. We're looking for a witch. She's summoning a demon that could break a seal and bring us closer to the apocalypse."

"Wow! That sounds... fun?" Irene's tone was filled with uncertainty.

"Does it?" Nadia let out a short laugh, shaking her head.

"No, it doesn't. It actually sounds quite terrifying. How are you holding up?"

Nadia's eyes dropped to the table, focusing on the worn leather of her journal. "I'm fine. It's just the job, you know?"

"No, Nadia. It isn't the job. This is Lucifer we're talking about. This is new territory for you and the boys. How are you really holding up?"

Nadia took a slow breath, her fingers tapping against the table as she processed Irene's words. She had given Sam and Dean the same "this isn't our norm" spiel the night before, but now, speaking with Irene, she realized how much she had pushed her own feelings aside.

"Honestly, Irene," she said, standing up and beginning to pace the small room. "I'm terrified. I'm not sure how we can stop something this big. There are so many moving pieces to this puzzle that we know nothing about. But you know who did know? My mother. She tried to warn me, tried to teach me. Instead, I'm lost and angry because she was more than she portrayed herself to be, and I'm paying the price. And at the same time, I feel guilty because I know she loved me. I know she did her best and what she thought was right."

Nadia paused, her chest tight, her throat constricting as the weight of it all hit her. She hadn't realized she was crying until the tears started to fall, unchecked. As expressive as she was with her emotions, sometimes she forgot to stop and just... feel. She'd been so focused on the hunt, the job, the next step, that she'd neglected her own heart.

"I'm sorry," she sniffled, wiping her eyes quickly, feeling a little embarrassed.

"Don't apologize, honey," Irene's voice softened, full of compassion. "You have every right to be angry, and even confused. Just make sure you don't let it make you bitter. Like you said, your mother loved you and your father. She did what she thought was best. It's all parents can do. It's what you'll do with your kids. I mean, if you want them."

Nadia blinked, caught off guard by the question. "I haven't really thought about having kids. Children and hunting don't exactly fit."

"Your father and I made it work. He made it work with your mother." Irene's voice held a quiet strength, her own past echoing through her words.

"Well, he's the hunter. I'm the hunter and the one with the womb," Nadia replied, letting out a small laugh. "I'm not sure I could make it nine months on the bench."

Irene chuckled on the other end. "You'd be surprised what a mother is willing to do for her children, born and unborn. And you may like time away from hunting. That's neither here nor there, though. First, you have to find a great man, so how's Dean?"

Nadia let out a sigh, running a hand through her hair. "I walked right into that one, huh?"

"You did. Anything sparking between you two?" Irene teased, her voice light.

"Sparking, yes, but that's about it," Nadia admitted. "A lot's been going on since Dean got back. Though he says otherwise, he's not in a good headspace. I care more about being there for him as a friend than in a romantic relationship. He needs someone to lean on."

Irene chuckled softly. "You sound like every other woman in this world—and me."

"What do you mean?" Nadia raised an eyebrow.

"Always wanting to be a man's shoulder to cry on. I learned the hard way with your father. Just because you give them a shoulder doesn't mean they'll take it. Sometimes, you have to let them come to you. Don't stress yourself out trying to help a man—or anyone—who doesn't want your help. You're playing the smart road by being his friend. Sometimes adding romance too soon makes things more challenging. Makes it hard to create boundaries."

Nadia thought over her words carefully. "Do you regret marrying my father?"

"What? No, of course not. I love your father," Irene answered quickly, her voice warm but a little wistful. "Yes, we've had some tough times. But if I could do anything over, I would have been a lot soberer. I didn't take into account how difficult being married to a hunter would be. A hunter who was also a widow and a single father at that. It's been hard trying to relate to you two, and at the same time, feeling misunderstood. I've felt like an outsider, being a normie and all."

"Wow, I never considered that," Nadia replied softly. "You being the outsider, I mean. I'm sorry."

"It's all right."

"No, it isn't," Nadia protested, her voice earnest. "I guess because we're hunters, we forget that just because our pain is different from normal people, their pain still matters. You matter, Irene. We might have had our ups and downs, but you're family. Ben's mother. And there's nothing I wouldn't do for family."

"And now I'm crying," Irene sniffled, her voice thick with emotion. "That means so much coming from you."

"I know."

Before they could continue, a knock at the door interrupted their conversation.

"That's Dean," Nadia said, wiping the last of her tears away. "I gotta go."

"Right, of course. Be safe out there. Try to make sure that seal isn't broken."

"Will do, Irene. We should do this again. The phone call, I mean. And next time I'm home, we should hang out."

"I'd like that a lot."

"Cool. Talk soon, bye." Nadia hung up the phone, grabbed her jacket, and opened the door, where Dean stood with a grin, holding a bag of candy.

"Good mornin'," he greeted with his usual easy smile. "Candy for breakfast?"

"Yes, please," Nadia replied, returning his smile as she stepped out, closing the door behind her. "Let's go."

Dean and Nadia were like kids, fooling around instead of paying attention to what they were supposed to be doing.

The stakeout was nothing new—it was boring. The minutes dragged by, with only the occasional shift of position to keep them from going completely stir-crazy. It was just the usual routine, but today, they added a sweet twist.

The more candy they ate, the higher their sugar rush became. Soon, they were in a comical back-and-forth about their worst failed cases, laughing and teasing each other as rock hits blasted from the radio. Time passed unnoticed.

"Dean Winchester is afraid of flying?" Nadia raised an eyebrow, surprised. "Out of every monster you've come face to face with, airplanes are what you're afraid of?"

"Hey, in my defense," Dean shrugged, cramming another piece of candy into his mouth, "I've spent my whole life on the road. And for most of that, I'm the one behind the wheel. Besides, how many cases of disappearing cars have you heard about?"

Nadia chuckled, unable to hold back a grin. "All right, all right. You got me there."

"Okay, okay, enough about me. What monster scares you the most?" Dean popped another piece of candy in his mouth, a smirk dancing on his lips.

Nadia hesitated for a moment, looking at the candy like it was the only thing that could distract her. "I don't want to say," she giggled, grabbing a piece of chocolate.

"Come on, I won't judge."

"Fine, okay," she sighed. "It's not a monster. It's more... a place."

"A place..." Dean's eyes narrowed, clearly intrigued.

"Haunted houses, Dean. I'm afraid of haunted houses, okay?" Nadia looked out the window, her face flushed with embarrassment.

"Seriously?" Dean couldn't contain a chuckle.

"Before you judge," she raised a hand, "there's a big difference between taking down a ghost that haunts its victims wherever they are. If you get one that's stuck to a house or a mental institution, you're on their turf. The door slamming, crap flying around—it's freaky!"

"I get your point," Dean said, holding his hands up in mock surrender. "But you did pretty well at the mill back in Colorado."

"That's because I was trying to keep you from crapping your pants, remember?" Nadia popped a mini chocolate into her mouth with a grin.

Dean flushed red, his cheeks turning slightly pink as he tossed an empty wrapper into the plastic bag. "Wish I didn't," he muttered, grinning.

The radio filled the brief silence with another classic rock hit.

"You shouldn't be embarrassed, though. Sam is scared of clowns," Nadia teased.

"Shut up," Dean groaned, half-laughing and half-groaning, as he rubbed his face with one hand.

"You're serious," Nadia burst out laughing, holding her hand over her mouth.

Dean snickered, his shoulders shaking with laughter. "It is," he said with a wink, "a little bit."

"Deal," Nadia said, holding up a finger. "This stays between us. If he finds out I told you, I'll never hear the end of it."

"My lips are sealed," she winked back, and Dean's heart skipped a beat.

They continued to munch on candy, their gazes drifting back to the Wallace residence. It would be noon soon, and if nothing sketchy showed up, they'd still be no closer to finding the witch.

Suddenly, Foreigner's *I Want to Know What Love Is* began to play on the radio, the smooth, familiar melody filling the quiet space between them.

They exchanged a glance and grinned.

Dean cleared his throat, trying to sound casual. "Good song."

"One of the best," Nadia agreed with an awkward nod, her eyes flickering over to Dean briefly.

Dean, unable to resist the beat, began tapping his leg to the rhythm, mumbling the words along with the song.

"You ever been in love, Dean?" Nadia asked, her voice quiet as she glanced over at him.

"Whoa, heavy question," he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "I guess you're serious now."

"You don't have to answer," she quickly added, "the question just seemed... fitting," she motioned to the radio.

He rubbed the back of his neck, thinking. "Have you?" he countered.

"I thought I was," Nadia sighed, gazing out the window. "He was a really good guy. Not the kind of guy I thought I'd end up with, but he was sweet, you know? Completely different than the jerk I ended up with after him."

Dean nodded in understanding. "What happened?"

"I just had this gut feeling that he wasn't it," Nadia explained. "I think I could've been happy with him, but I wouldn't have been satisfied, you know?"

Dean nodded somberly. "I do know. Her name was—uh, Cassie. She was a reporter. The only long-term relationship I've been in. After doing the whole hunter's disappearing act, I finally told her about our life. She thought I was just making excuses and broke up with me. Only to call me after her dad died... unnaturally."

"Did it turn out to be a case?"

"Yeah," Dean said with a nod. "It was a ghost. We got the job done. Cassie and I reconnected one last time, if you get my drift. But we both knew it wouldn't work. We loved each other, but she couldn't handle the hunter life. What about you? Ever date a..."

"A normie?" Nadia offered with a raised eyebrow.

Dean's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "A normie?"

"That's what Irene calls herself, since she's not a hunter." Nadia smiled softly. "Anyway, I've only dated hunters. I've flirted with regular guys at bars, but nothing serious. It never seemed like it would work. Trying to make someone understand why we do what we do... it's just too much."

"Yeah," Dean sighed, clearly understanding her hesitation. "I hear you."

"Did you ever think about getting out of the life? Assimilating into Cassie's world?" Nadia asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Dean thought about it for a moment, his fingers drumming on the steering wheel. "No, I didn't. Unfortunately, I'm not Sam. I don't think I'd make it out there."

"Yeah, me either," Nadia agreed, though her mind still lingered on the idea. "But..."

Dean could sense something was coming. "But?"

"I was talking to Irene about my mom," Nadia said quietly. "She said parents do the best they can. That I'd be the same for my own kids. I never really thought about having a family before... but just the thought of getting out of the game for nine months to have a kid? It's... it's scary."

Just as she was about to say more, Dean's phone rang. It was Sam.

"Hold that thought," Dean said, answering the phone. "Hey."

"How's it going?" Sam's voice crackled through the speaker.

"Awesome," Dean said dryly. "We've been sitting out here in front of Mrs. Razor Blade's house for hours, and we've got a big, steamy pile of nothing."

Sam sighed on the other end. "Look, someone planted those hex bags. Someone with access to both houses. There's gotta be some connection."

"Yeah, well, I hope we find them soon," Dean groaned. "I'm starting to cramp like a—"

"Hey," Nadia interrupted, tapping his arm and pointing to a blonde approaching the Wallace residence. "Look."

Dean's eyes widened. "Son of a bitch."

"Quit whining," Sam's voice cut through the phone line.

"No, Sam," Dean said sharply. "I mean, *son of a bitch*."

"Who is that?" Nadia asked, squinting at the woman.

"That's Tracy," Dean said, his voice low. "Jenny's friend from the party."

Mrs. Wallace opened the door with her baby, handing the child to Tracy before allowing her inside.

"Looks like we got our witch, boys," Nadia said, her tone filled with disbelief.

Dean and Nadia immediately headed back to the motel to regroup with Sam.

"So, our apple-bobbing cheerleader?" Sam asked, lounging across his bed while scrolling through his laptop.

"Yup," Nadia said, pulling off her jacket and stretching out on the couch, her feet kicked up. "Turns out she's the Wallaces' babysitter."

"Told us she never even heard of Luke Wallace," Dean added, shaking his head.

"Huh," Sam muttered. "Interesting look for a centuries-old witch."

Dean flopped onto his bed. "Yeah, well, if you were a six-hundred-year-old hag and you could pick any costume to come back in, wouldn't you go for a hot cheerleader?" He gave a suggestive smile. "I would."

Nadia rolled her eyes, amused. Sam, however, looked a little disturbed at how seriously Dean had taken his own joke.

"Well, Tracy's not as wholesome as she looks," Sam said, scrolling through his findings. "Did some digging. Apparently, she got into a violent altercation with one of her teachers and was suspended from school."

Nadia frowned, staring at Tracy's innocent-looking photo. It was hard to imagine the same girl who smiled in the picture was capable of such violence.

"The witch is smart," Nadia muttered as she rubbed her stomach. "You two suit up, do some recon at the high school. I'll be here when you get back."

Dean raised an eyebrow and stepped toward her. "You all right?"

"I think I ate too much candy," she replied with a slight grimace. "Which is unfortunate because I want more."

"I think I'm a bad influence on you."

"You're damn right," she shot back with a playful grin.