While the boys were at the high school, Nadia stayed behind to recover from her candy-fueled stomachache. She sprawled across the motel couch, scrolling through books and online sources in search of more information on Samhain. Despite her efforts, she didn't uncover anything new—certainly nothing about him blowing up an entire town. Frustration gnawed at her as the hours crawled by.

When Sam and Dean returned, they looked both irritated and intrigued, their suits slightly rumpled from their time at the high school.

"How'd it go?" Nadia asked, sitting up with mild interest.

"Interesting," Sam replied, loosening his tie. "We talked to her art teacher, Don—the one she got into that violent altercation with."

Dean flopped into a chair, running a hand over his face. "Turns out Tracy's not just your average rebellious babysitter. She's a freakin' psycho Picasso."

Nadia raised an eyebrow. "Care to elaborate?"

Sam set his laptop bag down and leaned against the table. "Her artwork was... disturbing, to say the least. Pages covered in cryptic symbols and grotesque drawings—her murdering people, detailed gore, that kind of thing. Apparently, Don called her work 'disturbing' and 'inappropriate.' That's what set her off."

Dean scoffed. "I'd say he was being generous."

Sam continued, pulling out his laptop. "One of the symbols she drew matches the one on the Celtic coin from the hex bag. It's connected to Samhain rituals."

"So, where is she now?" Nadia asked, standing to stretch.

"Don said she's emancipated and has her own place," Dean answered. "We checked her apartment, but it was empty. No sign of her."

Sam sighed. "She's probably on the move. We're going to need to hit the road again to track her down."

Dean stood, brushing off his jacket. "But before we do..." He grabbed a grocery bag from the table and handed it to Nadia.

Nadia, still stretched out on the couch with a book, gave him a confused look. "Dean, I don't think I can eat any more candy."

"It's not candy," Dean replied, a smug grin on his face. "It's somethin' that'll help you feel better."

Curious, Nadia sat up and peeked into the bag. She couldn't help but laugh when she pulled out a bottle of Pepto-Bismol and a heating pad. "You're kidding me," she said, a wide grin spreading across her face.

Even Sam looked surprised, his eyebrows raising in silent approval. It was so unlike Dean—but in the best way possible.

"Girl at the counter said this stuff works wonders," Dean said, clearly proud of himself. "Oh, and you can use the heating pad for cramps, you know, when it's that time of the month." He added this last part with an air of confidence, as if he'd cracked the code to life's mysteries.

Nadia's cheeks hurt from smiling so hard. "Thanks, Dean."

"We need you tonight, so rest up," Dean said, patting her lightly on the leg before heading for the door. "Let's go, Sammy."

Sam gave her a small smile as he followed Dean out. "Feel better."

Nadia leaned back against the couch, still smiling as she stared at the heating pad in her hands. She popped open the Pepto-Bismol, downed a dose, and plugged in the heating pad. Within minutes, the soothing warmth eased her stomachache, and the exhaustion from the day finally caught up to her. She drifted into a light, restless sleep.

Her dreams were fragmented, a whirlwind of memories and whispers.

"There are over five hundred seals, but only sixty-six need to be broken," her mother's voice echoed faintly.

"Most won't accept you, and that's okay. Your job is to help people. That's what matters."

"They won't understand, so they'll do whatever it takes. Even if it means humanity suffers."

The words swirled together, overlapping with flashes of light and shadow. The memories felt like warnings, but before she could make sense of them, a sudden noise yanked her from sleep.

A rattling sound.

Her eyes snapped open, and her hand instinctively moved to her waistband, where her pistol was tucked. The noise came again—someone was jiggling the doorknob.

Nadia sat up, her heart racing. It wasn't the boys; they had a key, and she would have sensed their familiar presence. This was someone else—someone unfamiliar.

The door creaked open slowly, and Nadia moved swiftly, pressing herself against the wall behind the door. Her breathing steadied, her grip on the gun firm. She waited, listening to the intruder's footsteps as they entered.

A tall, middle-aged man with long brown hair stepped inside, his movements cautious. He scanned the room, his hand slipping into his pocket as he approached the couch. Nadia didn't recognize him—his presence felt off, wrong.

She acted quickly, pressing the barrel of her gun into the small of his back. "I don't remember ordering room service."

The man froze, then tilted his head slightly as if sniffing the air. The gesture sent a chill down Nadia's spine.

"What are you?" he asked, his voice low and gravelly.

"Your worst nightmare if you don't tell me who you are," she shot back, her tone cold.

Before she could react, he flung his head back, the force of it colliding with her face. Pain exploded across her nose as she stumbled backward. The man used the opportunity to shove her into the wall before bolting for the door.

"Hey!" Nadia shouted, pushing herself off the wall. She chased after him, sprinting into the parking lot, but he was gone. It was as if he had vanished into thin air.

"Damn it," she muttered, wincing as she touched her nose. It wasn't broken, and thankfully, there was no blood, but the pain lingered.

Breathing heavily, she headed back inside, locking the door behind her. Grabbing her phone, Nadia was about to dial Dean when—

"Nadia," a familiar voice startled her so badly she dropped her phone. Castiel had appeared in the middle of the room without warning.

"Damn it, Cas!" Nadia clutched her chest, trying to steady her racing heart. But her irritation deepened when she realized he wasn't alone.

Standing beside him was another angel—she could sense it immediately. This one radiated a much harsher energy. He was dressed in an all-black suit, his dark skin glowing faintly under the dim motel light. Bald and imposing, his stoic face looked like it could stop traffic—and deter anyone from approaching.

"What the hell?" Nadia snapped, taking a step back.

"My apologies," Castiel said, his tone as calm as ever. "I didn't mean to frighten you."

His companion, however, didn't share his tact. The other angel's eyes swept over Nadia, cold and appraising. If he was impressed by her—or anything in the room—he certainly didn't show it.

"And who's your charming friend?" she asked, returning the same bitter glare he gave her.

"This is Uriel," Castiel said simply. "He's what you might call... a specialist."

Nadia raised an eyebrow. Something about Uriel put her on edge, and she didn't trust him as far as she could throw him. She bent down to pick up her phone, never taking her eyes off the newcomer.

"So, I guess you're both here about the seal."

Uriel's head snapped toward her, his eyes narrowing. "How do you know about that?"

"Followed Castiel's advice," she said, her voice clipped. "Got off my meds. Turns out, they were suppressing memories of my mother. Looks like she warned me about a lot of the crap going on right now."

At this, Castiel visibly tensed, and Uriel shot him a sharp look.

"Speaking of my mother," Nadia added, leaning casually against the wall, "either of you happen to know an angel named Aniela?"

Uriel's entire demeanor shifted in an instant, his face twisting with fury. "Don't you ever say that traitor's name in my presence!"

"Excuse me?" Nadia stepped forward, her temper rising, but Castiel quickly stepped between them.

"Please," he said firmly, his tone almost pleading. "This isn't the time for that."

"No, Castiel," Nadia said, pushing past him. "This is the perfect time. I prayed to you. I begged for your help. You told me to get off my meds, and now I'm stuck sorting through memories I barely understand. You're the only angel I can go to, and you weren't there. Why?"

"I wanted to come," Castiel admitted, his voice quiet. "But I couldn't. You're not my assignment. Dean is."

Nadia scoffed, shaking her head in disbelief. "Funny you say that, considering Dean is also my assignment. I'm supposed to protect him too—maybe even from you," she added, glaring mostly at Uriel.

Uriel finally spoke, his voice sharp and unyielding. "We are not your enemy, little girl."

"Doesn't feel that way," Nadia shot back. "Especially when my mother ditched your little angel cult. What does that say about you?"

Uriel took a step toward her, his imposing frame practically towering over her. "You don't know what you're talking about," he hissed. "And you have no idea what you're getting yourself into. Your mother chose her side, and if you don't want to end up at the same crossroads, I suggest you learn your place."

"Enough," Castiel interrupted, his voice like a crack of thunder. The room fell silent as both Nadia and Uriel stepped back. "Have you found the witch?"

"Yes," Nadia said through gritted teeth. "The boys are out looking for her now. We have everything under control. So unless you have something helpful to say, you can leave."

"We're not going anywhere," Uriel said coldly.

Nadia muttered under her breath, "I hate his voice."

Uriel ignored her. "Not until the job is done. If you fail, we have to clean up after you."

"Clean up after us?" Nadia repeated, her frown deepening. "What does that—"

Suddenly, her mother's words echoed clearly in her mind: They'll do whatever it takes. Even if it means humanity suffers.

Her stomach dropped as the realization hit her.

"Oh my God," she said, stepping back in disbelief. She pointed a shaking finger between Castiel and Uriel. "Samhain isn't going to blow up the town. It's you. You and your 'specialist.'"

Both angels stiffened.

"How do you know that?" Uriel demanded, his tone dangerously low.

Nadia's voice grew firmer. "I had a vision. The town was fine one moment. The next, it was ashes. I thought it was the witch, but now I know better. You're planning to destroy it, aren't you?"

"Nadia..." Castiel began, his tone almost apologetic.

"No, Cas!" she snapped. "You can't just stand there and—"

The sound of the doorknob rattling cut her off. All three of them turned toward the door as it swung open.

Sam entered first, instantly on alert at the sight of the angels. His hand hovered near the waistband of his pants where his gun was hidden. Dean followed close behind, his eyes immediately locking onto Castiel.

"You're just in time," Nadia quipped sarcastically, standing in the middle of the room, arms crossed. Her piercing gaze shifted to Sam and Dean as they entered. "Sam, Castiel. The angel."

Dean, still holding the doorknob, froze. His sharp eyes darted between the two imposing figures in the room. He immediately clocked Castiel but frowned at the taller, silent angel.

Closing the door behind him, he turned to Nadia. "You all right?"

"No," she snapped, shaking her head.

Dean gave her a once-over, noting her disheveled appearance and tense posture. His gaze then settled on the second angel. "Well, who's the other goon?" He motioned toward Uriel, who stood by the window, staring out with a detached intensity.

"Uriel," Nadia said flatly, her voice laced with disdain. "A specialist, according to Cas."

While Dean tried to make sense of the situation, Sam stood a little stiffly. His eyes were locked on Castiel, mouth slightly agape.

The angel tilted his head and acknowledged him with a slight nod. "Hello, Sam."

Sam blinked and scrambled to respond, his words fumbling. "Oh my god—uh—sorry, I didn't mean to, I—uh, it's an honor. Really. I've heard a lot about you." He extended a hand toward Castiel, his nervous energy palpable.

Castiel stared at the outstretched hand for a moment, visibly confused. After a beat, he reached out and gave it an awkward shake. "And I, you." He clasped Sam's hand and looked him directly in the eyes. "Sam Winchester. The boy with the demon blood. Glad to see you've ceased your extracurricular activities."

The room fell silent, tension rising like a wave. Castiel's tone wasn't accusatory, but the bluntness of his words hit like a slap.

Sam's smile faltered, his hand dropping. He took a step back, visibly unsettled.

Uriel, who had yet to turn from the window, added dryly, "Let's keep it that way."

Dean stepped forward, glaring. "Yeah, okay, chuckles. What's so special about him, huh?" He muttered the last part to Castiel.

Castiel ignored him and stepped into the center of the room. "The raising of Samhain. Have you stopped it?"

Dean frowned. "Why?"

"Dean," Castiel said firmly, "have you located the witch?"

Dean crossed his arms, exasperated. "Yes, we've located the witch."

"And is the witch dead?"

"No, but—"

"We know who it is," Nadia interrupted. She bent down to pick up a small object from the floor—a hex bag. Holding it up for the others to see, she said, "And she knows who we are. The guy she sent must've dropped this."

Sam's head whipped around. "There was a guy? He was here?"

"Yeah," Nadia nodded, her tone clipped. "Tried to sneak in. Didn't know I was here until he did—and then he bolted. I was gonna call, but these two," she gestured at Castiel and Uriel, "decided to crash the party."

"Do you know where the witch is now?" Castiel pressed.

Dean threw his hands up, his patience fraying. "We're working on it!"

Uriel finally turned, his expression cold and unyielding. "That's unfortunate," he said flatly.

Dean narrowed his eyes. "What do you care?"

Nadia's voice cut through the rising tension. "They came to tell us what we already know—that Samhain is a seal."

Dean scoffed. "So this is about your buddy Lucifer."

Uriel's glare darkened. "Lucifer is no friend of ours."

"It's just an expression," Dean shot back, unimpressed by Uriel's lack of humor.

Castiel's voice grew heavier. "Lucifer cannot rise. The breaking of the seal must be prevented at all costs."

Nadia stepped closer, her voice sharp with accusation. "Even if that means taking out this town, huh?"

Castiel stiffened but said nothing.

Dean's frown deepened as he turned to her. "What is she talking about?"

Nadia crossed her arms, her frustration boiling over. "I thought the witch or Samhain were planning to nuke the town. Turns out, it's their plan. That's why Mr. Specialist over there is here."

Uriel stepped forward, his posture rigid and unyielding. "If I were you," he said coldly, "I'd leave this town immediately."

The brothers exchanged a glance, the weight of his words sinking in.

Dean's jaw clenched. "So this is your plan," he growled. "You're gonna smite the whole friggin' town?"

"We're out of time," Castiel replied, his tone quiet but resolute. "The witch has to die. The seal must be saved."

"There are a thousand people here," Nadia snapped, her voice rising.

"One thousand two hundred fourteen," Uriel corrected matter-of-factly.

Nadia's eyes widened in disgust. "And you're willing to just kill them all?"

Uriel's expression didn't change. "This isn't the first time I've... purified a city."

Nadia's lip curled. "Obviously."

Castiel sighed. "Look, I understand this is regrettable—"

"Regrettable?" Dean interrupted with a bitter laugh. "You screw the pooch on some seals, and this town has to pay the price?"

"It's the lives of one thousand against the lives of six billion," Castiel said, meeting Dean's gaze. "There's a bigger picture here."

Nadia scoffed, sitting on the edge of Dean's bed. "Mama said you guys were a 'big picture' kind of clan."

Castiel's expression didn't falter. "Lucifer cannot rise. He does, and hell rises with him. Is that something you're willing to risk?"

Dean opened his mouth to retort but found no words.

Nadia stood abruptly. "We're done with this conversation. We'll stop the witch before she summons Samhain. So unless you two have something useful to say, let us get back to work."

Uriel smirked. "You talk a lot for someone who barely understands what she is."

Nadia squared up to him, her voice venomous. "If I'm supposed to be anything like you two, there's nothing to understand, now is there?"

"Careful," Uriel warned. "The apple doesn't fall far from the tree."

Her fists clenched. "Bring up my mother one more time, you soulless, robotic—"

"Hey, hey!" Dean stepped between them, pulling Nadia back "We don't have time for this. Relax."

Uriel chuckled darkly, his cold gaze lingering on her. "We're wasting time with these mud monkeys."

Castiel turned away, his voice quiet. "I'm sorry, but we have our orders."

"No," Sam said firmly, his voice trembling with restrained anger. "You can't do this. You're angels. Aren't you supposed to show mercy?"

Uriel smirked. "Says who?"

Dean stepped forward, defiant. "Plans have changed. We'll find that witch. We'll stop the summoning. And no one has to die."

For a moment, Castiel's expression softened. Uriel, however, bristled with frustration. "You think you can stop us?"

Nadia smiled darkly, stepping up to Uriel. "Maybe not. But if you destroy this town with us in it, you kill Dean. And Cas here went through all that trouble to bring him back. You willing to explain that screw-up to your bosses?"

Uriel's lips curled into a sneer, but Castiel raised a hand, silencing him. "I suggest you move quickly."