Even after a fight, the boys could always put their differences aside for a case. A hunter friend had asked them to check on a guy named Jack Montgomery, a town over in Carthage, Missouri. He'd been vague about what they were supposed to be looking for but planned to meet them there.

They'd be on the road the rest of the night, arriving in the morning. Nadia sat in the backseat, her eyes tracing the moon as it peeked through the shadowy trees. The tension had calmed enough that Dean finally felt he could talk to Sam about his trip to the past.

"I can't believe it. Mom, a hunter?" Sam asked, his voice tinged with disbelief.

"I wouldn't have believed it either if I hadn't seen it myself," Dean replied, still processing everything.

Nadia watched him in the rearview mirror. He wore a wistful look as he spoke about their mother. "That woman could kick some ass. I mean, she almost took me down."

All their lives, they'd believed that Mary's death was what got John into hunting and led him to raise them the way he did. To an extent, that was true. But it turned out hunting had always been part of their bloodline. In a way, there was no other outcome for them.

"How'd she look?" Sam asked, his voice softer. "I mean... was she happy?"

"Yeah, she was awesome," Dean nodded, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Funny and smart. So hopeful. Dad too. Until, of course..."

Sam's expression soured, and he sighed heavily, turning his gaze out the window.

"What?" Dean asked, sensing something was off.

"Nothing," Sam muttered, but he couldn't keep the frustration out of his voice. "It's just—our parents. And now we find out our grandparents were hunters too? Our whole family murdered and for what? So Yellow Eyes could get in my nursery and bleed in my mouth?"

Nadia's eyes flicked to Sam, confusion etching her face. Dean shared the same look of concern as they both processed his words. Nadia leaned forward, her voice gentle but direct. "Sam... Dean never said anything about demon blood."

Sam froze. His face shifted, guilt flooding his features.

Instantly, Nadia regretted speaking up. It was a painful thing to bring up, and she knew it added more salt to the wound.

Dean squinted at the rearview mirror, his voice sharp. "You knew about that?"

Sam couldn't meet his eyes. "Yeah. For about a year."

"A whole year," Dean said, his voice barely contained as anger simmered in his chest. "And you didn't think to tell me?"

Sam looked down, ashamed. "I should've told you. I'm sorry."

"You've been saying that a lot lately, Sam," Dean muttered, his voice full of bitterness. "But whatever. You didn't want to tell me. You don't have to. It's fine."

"Dean—"

Dean's body stiffened as he shut down, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. That silence was thick with tension, only making Sam more agitated.

"Whatever," Sam sighed, his words laced with frustration. He turned back to the window, not wanting to engage any further.

The rest of the ride was steeped in hostility, though neither brother spoke of it directly. Nadia could feel the weight of it pressing down on all of them, but none of it was really her business.

Still, she couldn't help but draw her own conclusions about the situation. They were both wrong. Sam for lying, and Dean for letting his anger build up to the point where he couldn't keep it under control. Nadia hated seeing him like that—it made her heart ache.

My morning, they were in Carthage and had checked into a motel. Sam wanted to narrow down the search in case there was more than one Jack Montgomery in town.

Nadia let the boys figure it out while she took a much-needed break in her room. She hopped into the shower, letting the warm water wash away the exhaustion. As she dressed, the TV filled the space with noise, distracting her thoughts.

Just as she was lacing up her boots, there was a knock on the door. It was Dean.

"You find him?" Nadia asked, ushering him inside and closing the door behind him. Her scent filled the air, clinging to the room like a sweet, warm presence. It was vanilla and spice—comforting yet seductive. Dean inhaled deeply, not minding it one bit.

Nadia's fragrance felt like a reflection of her—kind and calm on the surface, but with a spice beneath that hinted at her fiery side. He liked that. It kept him on his toes.

"Not sure," he cleared his throat, trying to ignore his own distracting thoughts. "We found one Jack Montgomery in town. So, it has to be him."

"Right," Nadia replied, grabbing a button-down shirt and pulling it over her spaghetti strap tank top.

Dean stared, suddenly nervous. He was concerned about how she might see him after he'd flipped out on Sam.

Nadia casually pushed her dreads over her shoulder as she buttoned up her shirt.

"Hey, look, I'm sorry that you had to see me like that," Dean said, his voice quieter now, full of regret.

"Who knew that behind that cute face was a hothead?" Nadia chuckled softly. Her voice was warm, nonjudgmental, and that made him relax.

"Can you blame me?" he asked, his voice still carrying the weight of his frustration.

"Not at all. I understand where both of you are coming from," she said, leaning against the table beside him. "It's just—do you want my opinion?"

"Please," Dean said, pulling out a chair and sitting down.

Nadia leaned in slightly, her tone thoughtful. "As an older sister, no matter how mad, I could never look Ben in the eyes and tell him that I would hunt him down."

Dean's head fell, the weight of her words landing hard. "Robin, Cas told me—"

"Screw Cas, Dean, and I mean that as respectfully as possible," she interrupted, her eyes soft but firm. "Maybe he's right. Sam could be going down a dark road, but you know what will push him farther? Knowing that his brother sees him as a monster. I saw the way you looked at him."

"Well, you weren't any less freaked out than me," Dean shot back.

"I'm not his brother, Dean," she said, her voice gentle but firm.

Conflicted, Dean rubbed the bridge of his nose, lost in thought.

Nadia leaned forward, meeting his gaze, their faces inches apart. "I'll trade shoes with Sam," she said, her voice low, intense. "Let's say I get off my meds, Dean. That whatever I've been suppressing makes me capable of doing way more than we saw your brother do. I'm saving people, but my way isn't natural. You gonna hunt me down?"

Dean's breath caught in his throat. His heart pounded so hard he could barely hear anything over the sound of it. Between the closeness, her scent, and her cleavage, he struggled to focus.

"Hm? Are you Dean?" she prodded, her gaze locked on his.

"I—I... of course not," he stammered, shaking his head as he quickly backed away from the table, standing up.

Nadia stood, watching him with a coy smile. "And why is that, huh? 'Cause I'm pretty? 'Cause if I told you to take me right now, you'd have my clothes off in seconds? Hm?"

"U-uh-uh, y-you have a point there," Dean laughed sheepishly, suddenly needing the distance.

He grabbed the back of the chair, using it as a barrier between them. "But in all honesty," he cleared his throat. "I don't want your father on my ass."

"Right, of course." Nadia nodded, her smile barely contained as she casually shrugged, as if she hadn't just gotten him all hot and bothered.

"Listen, my point is, you two need to stick together more now than ever," she said, her tone serious once more. "His powers are the least of our issues; it's that bitch Ruby. She's got deceit written all over her. She will be his downfall; you cannot let her be the only voice in his ear."

Dean nodded, feeling the weight of her words. He appreciated that she cared about Sam too.

"It's easier said than done," he admitted.

"I know," she sympathized, her eyes soft. "You can feel the way you feel, but you have to keep your head straight, alright?"

"Yeah, yeah, I hear you."

"Good. Now when are we going to see this guy?" she asked, changing the subject.

"Tonight," Dean replied.

"Cool, you want to watch some TV or something?"

"Raincheck," Dean said as he headed for the door. "I need a very, very cold shower."

Nadia watched him go with a sly, knowing smile, her eyes lingering on him just a moment longer.