Nadia pulled up across the street from Jack's house in a beat-up '97 Oldsmobile Cutlass that she had hot-wired back at the motel. She parked behind Travis' truck, grabbed her flamethrower, and got out of the car.

Travis' truck was empty, and so was the Impala. The lights in the house were off—seemingly no one was home, but she knew better.

Taking the cautious approach, she slipped into the backyard through the gate. Peering through the patio door, she could see into the living room.

Dean lay face down on the coffee table, unconscious with blood trickling from his head.

Jack was sitting beside him, blood covering his mouth, his skin pale and mottled with veins that looked almost worm-like.

For a second, Nadia thought Jack had bitten Dean, but then she noticed another body on the floor. It was almost unrecognizable, practically a carcass. It had to be Travis or Sam. Considering Travis had threatened to kill them, it could only be him.

If Dean and Travis were in the living room, then where was Sam? He had to be alive, or else Jack would've eaten Dean by now.

Nadia searched for a way inside without drawing attention. On the side of the house, she spotted a window to the bathroom.

She was lucky—it was unlocked.

Nadia crawled through quietly, using the toilet as a stool before closing the window behind her. She stood still, listening for any signs of movement.

Somehow, even with the door open, Jack didn't hear her. He was too busy talking to Sam.

"Dean?"

Nadia could hear Sam's panicked voice through the door, muffled by what sounded like rattling. He was locked up.

"Dean can't come to the phone right now," Jack's voice cracked.

"Jack!" Sam slammed his hands against the wall, furious. "If you hurt him, I swear to God!"

"Calm down!" Jack growled. "Your brother's alive. But not if you don't calm down."

Nadia allowed herself to relax, and Sam did the same. She tiptoed out of the bathroom and into the foyer.

"Alright, Jack. Listen," Sam tried to reason. "Open the door. We can figure this out, okay?"

Jack scoffed, his voice heavy with pain. "We'll have ourselves a little brainstorming session."

Through the railing, Nadia got a closer look at Jack—not just his transformation, but the devastation in his bloodshot eyes.

"Jack. Please."

Sam's voice came from nearby, locked in the coat closet.

"I don't think so. After what you did?" Jack's tone was bitter.

"What? What are you talking about?" Sam asked, confused.

As Jack continued to talk, Nadia quietly circled around the foyer into the dining room.

"You sent your friend here. He tried to burn my wife alive."

"What? Why?"

Nadia froze in the kitchen, hearing Jack hesitate.

"He didn't say," he lied. "I guess psychopaths don't have to explain themselves."

"Listen to me. You gotta believe me. My brother and I would never have hurt her, okay?"

Nadia slowly made her way around the corner into the living room.

Jack was in her sights. He dipped his finger in Dean's blood and licked it off eagerly. "Oh, God, I'm so hungry."

"Jack, don't do this," Sam pleaded.

"I can't ever see my family again," Jack murmured. "You two... your friend. You made me into this!"

"No one's making you kill us," Sam said firmly.

Nadia began to lift the flamethrower, ready to strike, but paused at Sam's words, slowly retreating into the shadows.

"Listen to me," Sam continued. "You've got this dark pit inside you. I know, believe me, I know. But that doesn't mean you have to fall into it. You don't have to be a monster."

Jack scoffed. "Have you seen me lately?"

"It doesn't matter what you are," Sam responded, voice steady. "It only matters what you do with it. It's your choice."

Nadia peered around the corner, watching Jack's reaction.

For a moment, it seemed like Sam's words had reached him.

But then, just as quickly, Jack's last shred of humanity faded as he went in for his second meal of the night.

"Hey!" Nadia shouted, catching his attention.

Sam, just having picked the lock on the closet, emerged at the perfect moment to see her light Jack up. Dean's eyes blinked open just in time to see the inflamed body. 

Together, the three of them stood and watched as Jack burned, his body crumbling in the flames, ultimately defeated by the outcome.

Sam especially stood still, his gaze fixed on the remains, the weight of what had just happened settling in.

It all happened just as the boys had said over their voicemails and text messages. When they reached Jack's house, they found Travis's body—or rather, what was left of it.

Jack had gotten the jump on them, and when Sam woke up, he found himself locked in a closet.

As far as they knew, Jack's wife had gone into hiding, and she was justified after Travis's attempt on her life.

"And you're all done." Nadia sealed a butterfly bandage over the gash on Sam's head. His injuries were minor. Aside from a headache, he'd be fine.

"Thanks," Sam said, remaining seated as she discarded the medical scraps. He rubbed his legs, visibly on edge.

"I'm sorry, Sam," she apologized softly. "That things didn't turn out with Jack like you hoped."

He gulped and nodded sadly. "Do you... uh, think things could have turned out differently?"

Nadia shrugged. "It's hard to say. Especially since we don't know all that went down before you guys got there. But if it helps, I don't think Jack wanted to turn. I think he was scared. And when Travis got his wife involved, he just... lost it."

Sam nodded, still distraught.

"Hey," Nadia said gently, placing a hand on his shoulder. "You can't say you saved him, but you can say you tried. And that means something too."

"Yeah." Sam stood. "Thanks again."

As soon as he stepped out of the bathroom, Dean peeked inside. "You ready for me, doc?"

"Come on in. Have a seat," Nadia gestured toward the toilet, ripping open an antiseptic wipe.

"I'm gonna start packing the car," Sam called out as he left.

"You were right, you know? Ah!" Dean winced as she wiped the cut on his face.

"Dean Winchester? A squirmer?" Nadia teased, lifting his chin slightly. He also had a bruise under his eye that would heal with time. "Right about what?"

"About how I looked at Sam. How I treated him." Dean shifted, uncomfortable. "We had an argument on the way to Jack's this morning. He said... well, he said he was just trying to make do with the demon blood. That it was a curse. I was so scared for him. I guess I never looked at it that way—his way."

"What did you say?" She tossed the bloody wipe into the trash and opened a fresh bandage.

"Nothing. I didn't know what to say. Aside from the blood, it's the lies and Ruby that I can't just let go of."

"Understandable," Nadia replied, focusing on the bandage.

Dean gazed at her, captivated, as she worked.

"Sometimes, saying nothing is better than saying something you'll regret," she said, finishing the bandage. "I think both of you need to take some time to think it through. Resume the conversation later. A lot has happened—your resurrection, for one. Neither of you is the same. You've gotta find that brotherly rhythm again."

Dean licked his lips, his gaze lingering on hers. "Yeah, I get what you mean."

"All done," Nadia said with a nod. "You live to see another day."

"Yeah, thanks to you." Dean stood, grateful.

Nadia tried to step back, but the bathroom was so small they were practically pressed together.

Her cheeks warmed, and she tried to look anywhere but into his eyes. Dean's green eyes were almost impossible to avoid.

"That's the second time you've saved my ass," he said, realizing. "How'd you know we were in trouble, anyway?"

Nadia shrugged, trying to brush off the intensity of the moment. "I sensed it."

"You sensed it," Dean nodded thoughtfully. "Seems like you sense a lot of things when you're not taking those meds."

"Yeah, I've noticed."

Sam's words echoed in her mind. No matter how hard she tried to ignore it, she couldn't escape the power inside of her. She realized that if she ever hoped to use it for good, she had to stop blocking it out.

Nadia didn't even notice that Dean had already gone into the bedroom until she leaned in the doorway, watching him throw on his jacket as Sam entered.

"You guys gonna be okay without me?" she asked, making them pause.

"What do you mean?" Dean asked.

"Yeah, where are you going?" Sam added.

"I gotta head back home in a few days for Ben's birthday. My little brother," Nadia explained.

"Oh." Dean's expression shifted, and although he understood, a hint of disappointment crossed his face.

"You're gonna come back, right?" Sam asked, to both their surprise.

Evidently, she had become a part of their lives in a way they couldn't ignore, considering everything that had happened.

"Of course," Nadia smiled. "You guys are stuck with me at this point. And you could always come with me. Take a break from all... this. I know a twelve-year-old's birthday party isn't really a vacation, but there will be cake."

"I'm there," Dean said without hesitation.

"Of course," Nadia said, not surprised. "What about you, Sam?"

"Yeah, sure, I'd love to."

"Cool." Nadia sighed inwardly, relieved.

She was genuinely excited to have the boys come with her. But she also hoped that bringing them would keep Irene off her back.

Nadia quietly rested her eyes in the backseat of the Impala. It'd officially been twenty-four since she'd taken her meds. She couldn't sleep, and her headache was relentless, but she was set on pushing through.

Upfront, Dean, and Sam sat in their respective seats.

Though it was quiet, the tension between the two was still very much there and what happened to Jack only made it worse.

Dean glances over at Sam; the younger Winchester wore a stoic expression.

"You did the right thing, you know. That guy was a monster, there was no going back."

Sam doesn't respond; he ponly lowers his head.

"Sam, I wanna tell you I'm sorry. I've been kind of hard on you lately."

"Don't worry about it, Dean."

Dean scoffs lightly. It wasn't easy for him to express himself, so he wanted Sam to understand where he was coming from.

"It's just that your, uh, your psychic thing. It scares the crap out of me."

"Look, if it's all the same," Sam looks at him, stonefaced. "I'd really rather not talk about it."

Here's a revised version that keeps the original content intact, with some adjustments for smoother flow and clarity:

Nadia quietly rested her eyes in the backseat of the Impala. It had officially been twenty-four hours since she'd taken her meds. She couldn't sleep, and her headache was relentless, but she was determined to push through.

Up front, Dean and Sam sat in their respective seats.

Though it was quiet, the tension between them was palpable, and what had happened with Jack only made it worse.

Dean glanced over at Sam. The younger Winchester wore a stoic expression.

"You did the right thing, you know. That guy was a monster, there was no going back."

Sam didn't respond; he only lowered his head.

"Sam, I wanna tell you I'm sorry. I've been kinda hard on you lately."

"Don't worry about it, Dean."

Dean scoffed lightly. It wasn't easy for him to express himself, and he wanted Sam to understand where he was coming from.

"It's just that your, uh, your psychic thing. It scares the crap outta me."

"Look, if it's all the same," Sam said, glancing at him with a stone face. "I'd really rather not talk about it."

Dean fought back a chuckle. "Wait a minute. What? You don't wanna talk? You?"

Sam sighed, trying to keep his emotions in check. "There's nothing more to say. I can't keep explaining myself to you. I can't make you understand."

"Why don't you try?" Dean asked, genuinely willing to listen.

"I can't," Sam stressed. "Because this thing, this blood—it's not in you the way it's in me. It's just something I have to deal with."

Dean nodded, keeping his eyes on the road. "Not alone."

Sam sighed again, his gaze drifting out the window as he gulped. "Anyway, it doesn't matter. These powers—they're like playing with fire. I'm done with them."

Surprised, Dean shot a glance at him. Even Nadia opened her eyes, having been listening.

"I'm done with everything."

"Really?" Dean almost scoffed, disbelief creeping into his voice. "Well, that's a relief. Thank you."

Sam sneered. "Don't thank me. I'm not doing it for you. Or for the angels or anybody. This is my choice."