Fighter: Dean Winchester (REVAMPED VERSION)

opeɴ αrмѕ;

Dean felt like an idiot; why was he so nervous about going on a date with a woman he'd already seen naked?

Probably because he hadn't been on a proper date in years. He couldn't even remember the last time he sat down with a woman and it wasn't to get in her pants. It had always been quick, no-strings-attached, nothing like this.

He sat at a booth alone at The River Duke Diner, glancing over the menu but not really focusing. The place had a Western theme, all moose heads and deer antlers, cowboy memorabilia hanging from the walls, a jukebox humming in the corner, and Christmas decorations strung up everywhere. The lights twinkled softly, and a faint smell of cinnamon hung in the air. It reminded him that the holiday season was coming. He wasn't sure if he was ready for it.

Christmas hadn't been a happy time for him and Sam. They didn't celebrate it. If anything, they treated it like any other day. Another year, another hunt.

Nadia was supposed to drive with him, but she'd decided to meet him there. It made him feel like she was up to something. She'd been acting a little secretive lately, and it made him more nervous than he cared to admit.

"Water?" came the voice of their older, curly red-headed waitress, Betsy, as she approached with a pitcher. She wore a cowboy uniform, complete with a red bandana and chaps that swayed with every step.

Dean glanced down at his half-empty glass. He'd already downed three. "Yeah, please."

"You sure you don't want to start ordering?" she asked, refilling his glass with a practiced hand.

"No, my date should be here soon," Dean said, trying to sound casual, but the words came out more like a question than an assurance.

"Alright, call if you need me," Betsy said with a wink, and a quick wave before she headed off.

Dean downed the water quickly like it was a shot of whiskey. Then, a thought hit him. He could order alcohol. It might calm his nerves, right?

He glanced at the beer menu. But then he hesitated. He hadn't been drinking as much lately, certainly not the way he used to. If he did have a drink, it was usually a casual one—nothing to drown out his past. And if he was honest with himself, he didn't want to numb the feeling tonight. He wanted to feel everything.

He didn't think about Hell as much anymore. He used to, a lot, especially after his time there. The bad dreams, the dark thoughts—it was hard to shake it all off. But Nadia had been there. Nadia was always there to bring him back down, to ground him when the darkness crept in.

That was what she was to him—an anchor. She was calm and patient, even when he was at his worst. Even when she was upset with him, she didn't yell or say things she didn't mean. She was kind and forgiving, two things he had never quite been able to be.

Nadia was so many things he wasn't.

It was understandable, he guessed. She hadn't been through the same shit he had. But still, he felt undeserving of her, especially when he had proven time and again that he had more to learn.

Even though he wasn't really into the whole God thing, every morning he woke up beside her, he felt like he had been given something he didn't deserve. A chance. A real shot at happiness.

Sam was right, though. He needed to buckle down. He needed to show Nadia that he was serious. He didn't know how much time they had left on this earth, but he knew he wanted to spend it with her. He was done with the waiting game. He wanted to build something with her.

The bell above the entrance door jingled, and all heads turned as she entered.

There she was—Nadia. She wore a simple black skater dress, the fabric clinging to her in all the right places, paired with heeled boots that clicked softly on the floor as she walked. Her hair was pinned up in an elegant updo, drawing attention to her soft brown eyes and delicate face shape. She looked stunning.