Fighter: Dean Winchester (REVAMPED VERSION)

lαzαrυѕ rιѕιɴɢ; pαrт ѕιх

Once they found an empty, abandoned warehouse, it was game on. Bobby covered the walls in every protective symbol and ward he could remember, his movements precise and grim, while Dean and Nadia set up their arsenal of weapons on a nearby crate.

Nadia stifled a groan as she clicked the safety on her Beretta. Her headache was getting worse, and her hands shook just slightly as she worked.

Dean caught sight of the small charm attached to her pistol's mount, something he hadn't noticed before. "What's that?" he asked, pulling an ax from the crate.

She looked down at the charm in her hand. "It's my mom's CNA pin," she replied softly, her thumb brushing over it.

"And the gun?"

"A gift from my dad for my sixteenth birthday," she said with a slight smile. "Irene was dead set against it."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "How come?"

She gave a small shrug. "I guess she hoped I'd have more feminine pursuits. Shopping, makeup—anything other than monsters and guns. But I was a hunter's kid, and my dad was already teaching me what he knew. She didn't get that. But I think she figured Ben would give me something else to focus on."

Dean nodded. "How is your family?"

"They're good. I'll be visiting soon—Ben's about to turn twelve." She smiled a little, thinking of her younger brother. "He asks for the same thing every year—a knife, rare and vintage, if I can find it. I've already got it for him."

Dean chuckled, glancing at her. "Let me guess, your mom would lose her mind if she knew."

"Exactly." Nadia grinned. "She doesn't love the idea of him growing up in this life. It's not the hunting that bothers her so much, I think. She just wanted there to be a line. Home is supposed to be safe."

Dean's smile faded. "For a hunter, there's no 'safe.'"

"Exactly." She paused. "It's not something we can just turn off."

"It's who we are," Dean said with a kind of resigned pride.

She nodded, their gaze meeting briefly before they turned back to their preparations. As she organized the weapons, Dean found his gaze lingering on her. She was unlike anyone he'd ever met—a perfect blend of toughness and compassion, quick with her words and even quicker on the draw.

Bobby finally joined them, wiping his hands on his jeans. "Got enough traps and talismans around here to send just about anything runnin'."

Dean eyed the symbols. "Quite the art project, Bobby."

"Just covering all our bases." Bobby surveyed their weapons spread out. "We've got stakes, iron, silver, salt, knives—"

"Guns," Nadia held up her Beretta.

Dean gave a satisfied nod. "Looks like we're all set."

Bobby frowned, still looking uneasy. "This is still a bad idea."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Yeah, Bobby, you've said that a dozen times. Let's ring the dinner bell."

Bobby hesitated, but Nadia touched his shoulder. Her gaze was calm, reassuring. "We'll be fine. Okay?"

For a moment, Bobby's shoulders relaxed, a surprising calm settling over him. "Alright, then." With a sigh, he knelt and began the summoning ritual, chanting in low, steady Latin.

Dean glanced at Nadia, his eyebrows raised. "What did you do to him?"

"Just a little encouragement," she shrugged, giving him a half-smile. "Sometimes, that's all it takes."