It had been the most exciting yet scariest few days of Chuck Shurley's life. For a long time now, he'd been in a deep depression. His writing had become more of a chore than a passion, and he'd turned to alcohol to cope with the painful creative process. What was once a dream career had turned into something burdensome.

But now, he knew he was more than just a writer. He was a Prophet—his whole life suddenly had a purpose. As a sign of his renewed outlook, he spent the night cleaning his house, tidying up the chaos of his mind.

Chuck had just taken out the trash when he heard a soft sound from the kitchen. He froze, his heartbeat quickening.

He slowly closed the door behind him, tiptoeing toward the sound. He cautiously peered around the corner, and there she was—Nadia—standing in front of the fridge, her eyes scanning the drawings on it.

"You don't have any children," Nadia said, her voice steady but with a hint of curiosity.

"Excuse me?" Chuck stepped fully into view, startled by her presence.

Nadia turned toward him, still pointing to the drawings. "You don't have any children. Well, as far as I know."

"I don't," Chuck answered, sliding his hands into his pockets, his voice quiet, almost embarrassed.

"Who drew these, then?" She asked, leaning in closer, eyes narrowing as she tried to connect the dots.

"Just an old friend," Chuck replied, his voice distant. "She used to come by a lot. She had a daughter."

"Ah," Nadia murmured, still staring at the drawings, her mind spinning. She couldn't quite shake the sense that there was more to the story than Chuck was letting on, a connection she couldn't place.

"What are you doing here, Nadia?" Chuck's voice broke the silence, more gently than before.

"I don't know," Nadia chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of her neck. "I mean, I know... but I'm sorry, I swear I don't make a habit of sneaking into people's houses in the middle of the night."

"Unless there's a monster," Chuck added, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

"Right, yeah," Nadia forced a smile, though she still seemed a bit uncomfortable.

Chuck gestured toward the table, motioning for her to sit. "Sit."

Nadia nodded, quickly taking a seat. She'd been stressing about getting answers all day, but now that she was here, sitting in Chuck's kitchen, she felt a nervous hesitation creep in. The questions she'd been carrying seemed heavier now that she was face-to-face with him, and she wasn't sure if she was ready to dig into them.

"Does Dean know you're here?" Chuck asked, moving to a cabinet above the counter.

"No, he's catching some sleep before we hit the road tonight," Nadia replied. "This whole Lilith thing was a lot."

"Yeah, tell me about it," Chuck muttered, pulling something from the cabinet and quickly hiding it behind his back before Nadia could see. "Thank you for saving my life, by the way."

"It's what I do," Nadia shrugged, trying to downplay the tension she felt inside.

Chuck turned around and, with an awkward smile, pulled a jar of lollipops from behind his back, setting it on the table in front of her. "Lollipop?"

Nadia's eyes lit up like a child in a candy store. "How did you even—wait, never mind. You practically know all of us like the back of your hand." She picked one from the jar, her fingers brushing the paper wrapper. "Did you have these the whole time?"

"I kept them here for my friend with the daughter," Chuck explained quietly.

"She doesn't come around?" Nadia asked, her voice soft, trying to gauge his mood.

"No," Chuck replied, his tone dimming, a faint sadness flickering in his eyes. "Not anymore. Not for some time now, anyway."

Nadia studied him for a moment, sensing the weight of his words. "Is that who you got the friendship bracelet from?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Yeah," Chuck replied, glancing down at his sleeve where the bracelet rested, his fingers briefly brushing against it as if lost in thought.

"I sense that you miss her," Nadia said, her voice filled with quiet understanding.

"I do," He admitted, his gaze growing distant. "She's very special. Her mother was, too."

Nadia gave a quiet nod, her heart heavy for Chuck. He seemed like a different man from the anxious, uneasy Prophet he was a mere few hours ago. This Chuck felt more grounded, more vulnerable—like someone who had been through things he couldn't speak of.

"Have we met before?" Nadia blurted out, her voice urgent, as if something deep inside her was pushing her to ask the question. "Have I been here before?"

Chuck blinked, clearly startled by the question. He laughed nervously, a little too quickly. "What? No. Of course not. I mean, obviously, we feel connected, but I'm a prophet and you're an archangel, tethered to me." He chuckled awkwardly, as though the connection between them was the only reason she might feel familiar. "Other than that, you think I wouldn't remember you? An angel?"

"I don't know what I think, Chuck," Nadia stood up, pacing, frustration beginning to bubble. "All I know is that I feel this... connection to you and this house, but every time I try to think about it, there's this wall in my head, blocking off these unknown memories. And then I read your book about me, and I found out that my memories have been wiped more than once. I mean, Dean and I kept missing every opportunity to meet each other earlier than we did. It can't be coincidental and it doesn't make sense!"

"Nadia—" Chuck started to speak, but she cut him off.

"And one book, Chuck? Really?" She shook her head, exasperated. "Those boys get a whole series, and I get one book? I don't mean to take it personally, but come on!"

"I thought you were grateful for one book."

Nadia looked away, slightly embarrassed. "Yeah me too. . . I just . . . I want answers," she admitted.

"T-there's more," Chuck muttered under his breath, not meeting her gaze.

"What?" Nadia turned sharply, her pulse quickening.

"You do have more books," Chuck confessed, his voice low, almost as if he regretted it. "I just... I just didn't publish them."

"Why not?"

"I don't know," he mumbled, running a hand through his messy hair. "They just felt... sacred, I guess." He gulped, looking away. "It's a eleven-book series, including the published one. The first five are about your mother, and the last ones are about you—about your life after she died."

Nadia blinked, stunned. The relief that washed over her was palpable, but so were the questions. "Oh wow... Okay. Can I—can I read them?" Her voice trembled with a mix of hope and emotion.

Chuck hesitated, then awkwardly scratched his head. "Uh, yeah." He walked into the living room and returned a moment later with a stack of books, handing them to Nadia. "Here they are."

Nadia took the top book, feeling a surge of anticipation. "Light of the Guardian," she reads the title.

"Take them," Chuck said quietly, almost as if he were handing her something fragile.

Nadia raised her eyebrows. "Really?"

"Yeah, really," he nodded, giving her a soft, sincere smile. "You deserve to know the truth."

"But..." Nadia paused, feeling conflicted. "Even in my books, things are being withheld from me. I don't understand, Chuck. What is there to hide?"

Chuck scratched the back of his neck, looking uncomfortable. "You know, I wouldn't think too deeply about the things you don't know."

Nadia frowned, her eyes darkening.

"I mean, look," he continued, sitting down beside her. "There's a quote I once heard: 'Time has its own way of revealing the truth. Just be patient and live life. You'll get the answers you seek soon... or much later.'"

"But I want to know now!" Nadia burst out, her emotions flaring. "My mind's been erased, Chuck—more than once! How can I trust what I do know? How can I trust anyone?"

Chuck's face softened, and he leaned forward, eyes full of an emotion Nadia couldn't read. "It's all about perspective, Nadie—I mean, Nadia," he corrected himself, nervously.

"Perspective?" Nadia scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping her. "Maybe taking my memories and keeping me on the outside has been more about controlling when and what I get to know. But you know what? I should go before Dean realizes I'm gone. I'll get to the bottom of this. Thank you for the books."

"Wait," Chuck stood up, his voice suddenly panicked. "Nadia!" he called, but Nadia was already starting to gather the books.

"Chuck, I really should go—"

"Nadia!" He said again, more forcefully this time, his eyes wide with urgency.

"What?" Nadia frowned.

Chuck stood there for a moment, his fists clenched at his sides. He seemed to hesitate before taking a deep breath. "You have something on your face," he said suddenly, reaching for her forehead.

But then he stopped himself, eyes flicking away as if uncomfortable.

"Never mind," he muttered, almost too quietly, his gaze lingering on her for a moment too long. "I thought I saw something."

"Oh, okay, well... thanks again."

Chuck took another step forward, his voice a little softer, but still laden with concern. "One more thing... I know everything that's gone on has been a lot. But just... trust your path, okay? Trust yourself, and try to find peace knowing that someone's looking out for you."

"Someone?" Nadia's brows arched.

"Angels," Chuck murmured, his eyes averted. "Like your mom used to say."

Nadia's expression darkened, the weight of his words pressing on her. "Yeah... right," she said softly, searching his eyes. She couldn't tell if his concern was for her, the world, or the books. Maybe all three.

"Good luck out there, Nadia," Chuck said, stepping back, his face a mixture of sadness and hope.

Nadia nodded slowly, flying away, her wings fluttering where she once stood.

Nadia tugged her jacket collar up, shielding her face as a biting gust slipped through the tarp, chilling the back of her neck.

The car sat in tense silence, each of them cloaked in their own thoughts, the weight of the last few days hanging thick in the air. Silver moonlight seeped through the windshield, casting an eerie glow over their faces, accentuating every crease of worry, every shadow of exhaustion.

Outside, the world felt quiet, almost too quiet, amplifying the steady hum of the engine and the soft rustle of the tarp as it shifted in the wind. .

"So... a deal, huh?" Dean finally broke the silence, his voice low and laced with tension. He had been turning Lilith's proposition over in his mind—her offer to stop breaking seals, to call off the apocalypse entirely, in exchange for the brothers' lives.

Sam, sitting in the front passenger seat, nodded. "That's what she said."

"To call the whole thing off... angels, seals, Lucifer rising... the whole nine?" Dean pressed.

"Yeah, that was the gist of it," Sam confirmed, his voice calm but laced with a hint of unease.

"Huh," Dean muttered, clearly thinking it over.

Sam glanced at his older brother, a look of disbelief crossing his face. "What?"

Dean didn't meet his gaze at first but finally spoke, his voice hesitant. "You didn't think once about taking it?"

Sam let out a scoff, his frown deepening. "You kidding me? Dude, you spent all day trying to talk me off the Lilith track."

"I'm just saying," Dean said, a bit defensive, his eyes flicking to the road.

Sam exhaled sharply, looking ahead. "She would've found some way to weasel out of it. And all it would've cost us was our lives."

Dean didn't answer, just shrugged in agreement.

Nadia watching Sam, sensing he had more to say.

"Anyway, that's not the point," he said after a beat, his tone sharper now.

Nadia raised an eyebrow, "there's a point?"

Sam gave her a sly grin, his expression darkening. "The point is, she's scared. I could see it. Lilith is running."

Dean's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Running from what?"

Sam's eyes glinted with something darker. "Don't know. But she was telling the truth about one thing."

Nadia looked at him, intrigued. "What's that?"

"She's not gonna survive the apocalypse," Sam said with a chilling certainty. "I'll make sure of that."

The villainous gleam in Sam's eyes made Dean glance nervously in the rearview mirror, meeting Nadia's gaze; a brief moment of shared concern between them