Nadia and the boys left the motel room, their determination clouded by frustration and disappointment. The moment they stepped outside, they stopped in their tracks. The Impala was splattered with eggs, a gooey mess running down its glossy black paint.

Dean's jaw clenched as his lips twisted into a pout. His hands immediately went to his hips as he surveyed the damage. "Astronaut!" he bellowed, his voice echoing through the lot.

Sam, already halfway to the car, smirked at Dean's reaction. "Guess one of your candy-deprived trick-or-treaters got their revenge," he quipped as he climbed into the passenger seat.

Nadia, leaning against the side of the car, crossed her arms and looked away, too lost in her thoughts to even ask who Dean was yelling about.

Dean's tone softened when he turned to her. "You alright?"

She exhaled deeply, her voice steady but tinged with unease. "I'm an angel. Or half-angel, I guess."

Dean froze mid-step, his eyes narrowing in disbelief. "Wait, what? Castiel confirmed that?"

"More or less." She nodded, her expression unreadable. "Uriel called my mom a traitor. And when that guy broke in, he sniffed me, Dean. He sniffed me and asked me what I was. The crazy part is...I know what I am, and at the same time, I don't. That's probably the only thing Uriel was right about in there."

Dean tilted his head slightly, concern flashing across his face. "Did you ask Cas?"

"He's busy. And honestly, I'm not sure he could tell me much, anyway." Nadia paused, her voice growing colder. "When I brought up what he told me about reaching my full potential, Uriel scolded him. I get the feeling I was never supposed to know. Not about me being an angel, not about my mom. I don't think the angels want me anywhere near their business."

"And what do you say to that?"

She pressed her lips together, the weight of everything settling on her. Then, with a spark of defiance, she shrugged. "I think that's too damn bad."

Dean couldn't help the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Damn right."

She pushed herself off the car and climbed into the back seat. Dean watched her for a second longer, a mix of admiration and something deeper stirring in him, before shaking it off and sliding into the driver's seat.

Sam sat quietly, his fingers fiddling with the hex bag.

"What?" Dean asked, catching his brother's expression.

"Nothing." Sam shrugged but then chuckled softly. "I just thought they'd be different."

"Who, the angels?"

"Yeah."

Dean raised his eyebrows and nodded knowingly. "Well, I tried to tell ya."

Sam shook his head, still trying to process. "I mean...I thought they'd be righteous."

"They are righteous," Dean replied after a moment, glancing at Nadia in the rearview mirror. "That's kinda the problem. Ain't nothing more dangerous than some a-hole who thinks he's on a holy mission."

Sam let out a heavy sigh, conceding Dean's point but unable to hide his disillusionment. "But, I mean...this is God. And Heaven. This is what I've been praying to?"

Dean smirked slightly. "Look, man, I know you're into the whole God thing. You know, Jesus on a tortilla and all that. But just 'cause there's a couple of bad apples doesn't mean the whole barrel's rotten. For all we know, God hates these jerks too. Don't give up on the big guy, is all I'm saying. Babe Ruth was a dick, but baseball's still a beautiful game."

He motioned toward Nadia in the backseat. "And hey, we've got her. She's proof there are good ones."

Sam turned to look at her. "Wait, really? So your mom was...?"

"Yeah," Nadia sighed. "Uriel called her a traitor. I don't know the full story yet, but I know she warned me about this apocalypse. She must've seen it coming." Her tone softened. "She used to tell me angels were watching over me."

Sam frowned slightly, unsure of where she was going with this.

"So," she continued, "Dean's right. There are good angels. Maybe we haven't met them yet, and maybe we never will, but that doesn't mean they don't exist. I don't think my mom would've left me with such a peaceful sentiment if she thought all angels were heartless bastards."

Dean gave her an approving nod. "Exactly."

Though Dean himself wasn't sold on the idea of God or angels as a whole, he didn't want Sam to lose his faith entirely. One of them had to believe in something.

Sam shifted back in his seat and opened the hex bag. Its contents were the same as the others they'd found, though he turned one item over in his hands, deep in thought.

"The guy that broke in," Dean asked Nadia, "what'd he look like?"

She tilted her head, recalling his features. "He was tall, had long brown hair. Jeans, dress shirt, black blazer. Green eyes. Face was a little pudgy. Couldn't have been more than forty-five."

Dean's brow furrowed. "You sure?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"I dunno." He tapped the steering wheel, thinking. "The only guy we've talked to with long hair today was Tracy's teacher—Don."

Sam looked up from the hex bag. "You think it's him?"

Dean shrugged. "Not sure, but it's worth looking into."

Sam turned his attention back to the bag, examining one of the objects inside—a baby bone, charred and brittle.

"Well," Dean quipped, starting the car, "you gonna help figure out how to find this witch, or you just gonna sit there fingering your bone?"

Sam shot him an exasperated look. "Do you know how much heat it would take to char a bone like this?"

"Nope."

"A lot. More than a regular fire or some kitchen oven."

Dean glanced at him sideways. "Okay, Betty Crocker, what's that mean?"

"It means," Sam replied, "we have to make a stop."  

Ironically, Nadia's description of Don was spot-on. Sam was convinced their next clue would be at the high school where Don worked. His art class was currently studying pottery, and the classroom had at least six kilns for the students to use during the clay process.

When they arrived, Sam wasted no time beelining for Don's desk. Dean wandered over to inspect an empty kiln, peering inside like it might hold secrets. Nadia lingered, taking in the student artwork pinned to the walls.

"So Tracy used the kiln to char the bone," Dean said, joining Sam at the desk. "What's the big deal?"

"It had to be Don that Nadia ran into," Sam replied. "He showed up after we talked to him. If it were Tracy, she would've done something sooner."

"Exactly," Nadia added, moving closer.

Sam knelt, tugging at the desk's bottom drawer. His brow furrowed when he realized it was latched shut with a master lock.

"Use this," Nadia suggested, handing him a hammer she'd spotted nearby.

After five solid hits, the lock gave way. Sam yanked the drawer open, and all three of them froze. Inside was a bowl full of small bones, each identical to the ones in the hex bags.

Sam's jaw dropped. Dean let out an irritated huff, shoving his hands into his pockets. Nadia's stomach churned as disgust tightened her throat.

"My God," Sam breathed, his voice shaky. "Those are all from—"

"Children," Nadia finished, her expression grim.

Dean sighed heavily, pacing a short distance. "And I'm guessing he's not saving them for the dog."

"So where would he be now?" Sam wondered aloud.

"Let's start with his house," Dean suggested. "I'm sure the office has a file on him somewhere."

"No time," Nadia said firmly, her mind racing. "I'll find him and call you."

Dean arched a skeptical brow. "How the hell are you gonna do that?"

"I'm an angel," she said with a nervous chuckle. "If Castiel can find us anywhere in the world, why can't I find a witch?"

"Wait, think about this," Sam cut in. "Last time you teleported, you were out of it for two days."

"Yes, but I time-traveled into the future. Don can't be far—this shouldn't be as bad."

"I don't know, Robin," Dean said, crossing his arms. "What if it knocks you out mid-fight?"

"Guys, this is a seal we're talking about. It's worth a little sacrifice." She smirked. 

"You sound like an angel," comments Dean.

Nadia shrugs slightly. "Well, if the halo fits..."

She took a deep breath, stepping back and closing her eyes. She focused her thoughts on Don, picturing his face and his presence. Tracking someone spiritually felt different than simply sensing them—it was less instinct and more like gazing through an invisible, celestial lens.

In less than five minutes, she teleported from the high school to the overgrown front yard of a shabby, gray, two-story house. It reeked of neglect. Kids dressed in Halloween costumes passed on the sidewalk, giggling as they plotted their next trick-or-treat stop.

Nadia's head throbbed painfully. She wiped her nose, relieved to find no blood this time. Her legs trembled, but she managed to stay upright. All the house lights were off except for a faint glow from the basement window.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket.

"Robin, you alright?" Dean's voice rang through the speaker.

"Yeah, yeah. A little weak, but I'm good."

"Where are you?" Sam asked.

"Pretty sure I'm at Don's house. I popped in on the lawn." She glanced at the street sign and rattled off the address.

"Alright, we're on our way," Dean said.

"Got it," she replied, ending the call.

As she approached the front door, muffled voices caught her attention. Someone was chanting in Latin, their tone low and methodical. A second voice, high-pitched and panicked, screamed through the gag muffling it.

Nadia's instincts took over. Before she could overthink it, she teleported into the basement.

Don stood near an altar, a gleaming knife in his hand. Tracy, gagged and strung up by her arms, thrashed in terror.

"Hey!" Nadia barked, drawing her pistol in a fluid motion.

She fired three quick shots, each one hitting Don—shoulder, chest, and heart. He collapsed to the floor, blood pooling beneath him.

"It's okay," Nadia reassured Tracy, shoving the pistol into her waistband as she hurried to untie the girl.

Tracy ripped the gag from her mouth as soon as her hands were free, trembling violently. "Thank you! He was gonna kill me!" She glanced at Don's lifeless body with a mix of horror and disgust. "That sick son of a bitch... Did you see what he was doing? Did you hear him?"

Something shifted in her tone—subtle but chilling.

"How sloppy his incantation was?" she asked with a devious smile.

Nadia froze. Realization hit like a freight train. Her gaze darted to the pistol lying on the floor, right by Tracy's foot.

"My brother always was a little dim," Tracy said, stepping closer.

Their eyes locked, tension crackling like static in the air. Tracy moved first, her lips parting to chant a spell.

Nadia's hand shot up instinctively. Without fully understanding how, she silenced Tracy with a gesture.

The witch's eyes bulged as her breath caught in her throat. She clawed at her chest, her knees buckling.

Nadia gritted her teeth, her hold faltering under the strain. She was too weak to finish the job. Reluctantly, she let go, collapsing to all fours as Tracy gasped for air.

"You bitch!" Tracy snarled, grabbing Nadia by the hair and yanking her upright. Her face softened as she noticed the blood trickling from Nadia's nose. She leaned in, sniffing her curiously.

"I don't know what you are," Tracy mused, "but I do know you're weak." She shoved Nadia to the floor with a sneer. "And the least of my worries."

Groaning, Nadia struggled to push herself up.

Tracy knelt beside Don's body, pulling the knife from one of his bullet wounds. Blood spilled into a chalice as she worked quickly.

"He was gonna make me the final sacrifice," Tracy muttered, rolling her eyes at the corpse. "His idea. But now? That honor goes to him."

She brought the chalice to the altar, her eyes gleaming with manic delight. "Tonight, you'll all see what Halloween really is."

As Tracy began chanting, Nadia panicked. She couldn't stop her—not like this. Her mind raced back to what she'd read about Samhain.

Dipping her fingers into Don's blood, she smeared it across her face. If the book was right, she might just survive this.

The ground split with a deafening crack. Samhain's spirit roared free, diving into Don's corpse. The demon's eyes snapped open, their icy blue glow searing the darkness.

Tracy grinned triumphantly as Samhain approached her.

"My love," she whispered, staring up at him in awe.

"You've aged," he said flatly, his tone dripping with disdain.

"This face..." She lowered her head, embarrassed. "I can't fool you."

"Your beauty is beyond time," Samhain said, pressing his forehead to hers.

Then, without warning, he snapped her neck, letting her body crumple to the floor.

"Whore," he spat, disgusted.

Nadia's heart pounded as he turned, sniffing the air.

She lay perfectly still, willing herself to disappear. If the lore was right, he'd think she was dead and move on.

But her luck ran out when he grabbed her by the jacket, hauling her to her feet.

"An angel," he growled, sniffing her again.

"Barely," she croaked, too weak to fight back.

Samhain's lips curled into a cruel smile.

"Kill me already," Nadia begged.

"Where's the fun in that?" he sneered. "You're coming with me."