As they finished tending to the wounds and bandaging Dean up, Sam stood, wiping the sweat from his brow. "I don't know how you did it but I couldn't have been more happy to see you at that moment." Maverick nodded, though the tension in her chest never quite eased. Her gaze lingered on Dean, his breathing now steady but shallow, before turning to face Sam, who looked both exhausted and relieved.
Sam wiped the sweat from his brow, his voice laced with gratitude. "I don't know how you did it, but I couldn't have been happier to see you in that moment. You saved him, Mav."
Maverick gave him a faint smile, though the worry for Dean never left her eyes. "I didn't know if it would work. Alice told me to call for the Blade—it's connected to both of us, to the Light." She glanced at the Blade of Justice, now resting beside Dean. "I thought of him, and suddenly I was there. The Blade... it's more powerful than I realized."
Sam nodded, taking in every word. "It brought you through time and space to him. That's no small feat. But how did you even learn to call for it like that?"
Maverick sighed, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "It's been... a lot to take in. Alice and my dad, they've been helping me understand what I am, what the Light really means. I learned that the Light isn't just power—it's connection. That's why the Blade answered me when I called for Dean. It's bound to both of us."
Sam listened intently, his brow furrowing as he absorbed her words. "So, you're saying you're linked to Dean, not just through the Blade but through this... force?"
Maverick nodded. "Exactly. The Shadow Reaper feeds on darkness, on fear, but the Light—our connection—it counters that. We're stronger together, Sam. But if either of us falls, the Reaper gains the upper hand."
Sam glanced back at Dean, his expression heavy with understanding. "And that's why it's going after him."
"Not just him," Maverick added quietly, her eyes darkening with the weight of what she knew. "It's coming after all of us, Sammy."
Sam's head shot up, his eyes locking onto hers. "What do you mean, all of us?" he asked, though deep down, he knew the answer.
Maverick's expression was serious, her voice low as if the very words carried an unspoken warning. "You're part of this too, Sam. You're another key piece of this puzzle, but I don't know what your role is yet."
Sam's mind raced, flashing back to what Dean had told him, to the unsettling events at the bunker. It wasn't the first time he had heard this. He knew Maverick was onto something—something bigger than just her and Dean. Something that now involved him. But this was the moment where everything needed to come out into the open.
He swallowed hard, his gaze dropping to the floor for a moment. "Mav," he began, his voice quieter than usual, "there's something I haven't told you… something happened back at the bunker."
Maverick's eyes narrowed in concern, sensing the weight of Sam's words. "What do you mean, Sam? What happened?"
Sam leaned against the wall, exhaling slowly, trying to find the right words. "When you and Dean were in the kitchen, I started seeing these flickers—small, almost like visions, when I closed my eyes. At first, I thought I was just tired, but something felt... off. I didn't know what to make of it."
Maverick's brow furrowed, the gravity of Sam's words sinking in. "And you think it's connected to…"
Sam then cut her off, his expression serious. "You. That's when it clicked."
Maverick's brow furrowed with concern. "What clicked, Sam?"
Sam sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "I think I'm tied to you and the light somehow. When I walked in earlier and saw you crying, questioning yourself, your light flickered. I think it reacts to your emotions—when you're overwhelmed, it weakens."
Maverick blinked in confusion. "But how is that possible?"
"I don't know yet. I've been trying to figure it out." Sam's voice dropped as he continued. "But there's something bigger going on. The Reaper said something before you showed up—he can see the darkness that's still inside me. The part I've tried to bury and hide. He said that soon I'd see it too, and that my role in this is far more critical than I realize. He was planning to get to me before we figured it all out. He wanted to take Dean out to weaken us Maverick."
Sam's words hung in the air, heavy with meaning, as Maverick's wide eyes locked onto his. Her heart pounded in her chest, not just from the fear of what the Reaper had said, but from the terrifying realization that Sam might be right. She could barely process what she was hearing. The Reaper's words had been cryptic but clear enough—Sam was a target, and through him, they wanted to weaken her. To destroy the light she carried.
"Sam…" Maverick whispered, her voice trembling. "I never thought it could be you." Tears welled in her eyes, a mix of disbelief and fear. She'd spent so long fighting alongside Sam and Dean, never considering that darkness could be lurking in one of them, waiting to surface.
Sam's eyes softened, seeing the fear reflected in her. He stepped closer, his presence steady and warm. "Mav, listen to me," he said, his voice gentle but firm, "I need you to hear this. That darkness… yeah, it's there. It's always been there, but I've spent my whole life fighting it. I've been pulled into that darkness before, and I came back. Every time."
Maverick's breath caught as Sam closed the distance between them, placing his hands gently on her shoulders, grounding her in the moment. "You are not going to lose me, Mav," Sam said, his voice full of determination. "The Reaper, the demons, whatever they throw at us—they've tried to break us before. They won't win."
Maverick's tears spilled over, but she shook her head, still overwhelmed by the thought of Sam being used against them. "But what if you can't fight it, Sam? What if he—what if he turns you, and I have to—" her voice broke, unable to finish the thought. She couldn't imagine having to face Sam like that, knowing what he could become if the Reaper succeeded.
Sam, seeing the depth of her fear, pulled her into a tight hug, wrapping his arms around her as if to shield her from everything. "Hey, hey, it's okay," he whispered into her hair. "That's never going to happen. I won't let it." His voice was low but steady, his heartbeat strong against her ear.
Maverick gripped his jacket, her body trembling slightly. For all her power, for all her strength, she felt vulnerable in this moment. But in Sam's embrace, there was a sense of safety, a reminder that they had fought through so much already—and they had always found a way.
"You're family, Mav," Sam said, pulling back just enough to look down into her eyes. "And nothing, no darkness, no Reaper, is going to change that. You and Dean—you're my world. And I won't ever let that slip away."
Maverick blinked through her tears, her chest tight with emotion, but Sam's words anchored her, bringing a sliver of hope back to her heart. "I need you to believe that," he continued, his voice full of quiet strength. "Because we're stronger together. Whatever the Reaper is planning… it doesn't stand a chance against us."
She nodded, wiping away the tears as she looked up at him. "I believe you, Sam. I do. I just… I don't want to lose anyone else."
"And you won't," Sam reassured her, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Not as long as we stick together. We've got each other's backs, always."
Maverick's tears slowed, a glimmer of warmth returning to her eyes. She managed a small smile through the fading fear, leaning into Sam's embrace again. "Thank you, Sam," she whispered, feeling a little more at peace. "For everything."
Sam held her close for a moment longer before stepping back, still keeping a hand on her shoulder. "We'll figure this out," he promised, his tone full of conviction. "But for now, let's focus on getting Dean better. Then we'll deal with whatever's coming next—together."
The hunters bunkered down in the bar for the night. Sam carefully laid salt lines at every door and window to ward off any remaining hellhounds, even though Maverick had likely dealt with them. With Dean injured, Sam wasn't willing to take any chances. Castiel had been called away to Heaven, leaving just the small group to defend the bar. Sam knew it would be a long night, especially for him and Maverick, who would be staying up to tend to Dean.
After securing the perimeter, Sam headed into the kitchen where Jo and Ellen were cooking. The weight of the day clung to him as he slowly sank into a chair at the small table.
Ellen noticed his exhaustion and concern, sitting down beside him. "Hey, how are you holding up?" she asked gently.
Sam sighed, running a hand over his face. "As good as can be expected. I keep thinking... I shouldn't have left you all alone back there," he muttered, guilt lacing his words.
"Sam, listen to me," Ellen said firmly, taking his hand. "Dean is going to pull through this. He's been to hell and back—literally. You know that better than anyone."
Sam shook his head, the weight of their situation pressing down on him. "But we don't have time for any of us to be down. This thing—it's after the three of us, Ellen. If Dean's out of commission, we're all more vulnerable." He dropped his head into his hands, elbows resting on the table.
Jo, who had been quietly stirring something on the stove, set the spoon down and walked over to Sam. She placed her hands gently on his shoulders. "Sam, this isn't on you," she said quietly.
Sam lifted his head, looking up at her.
"It's me. I'm the one to blame for all of this," Jo continued, her voice thick with guilt. "If it wasn't for me being so hard on Dean... If I hadn't let my emotions get the best of me, he wouldn't have been so distracted. He stepped outside to get away from me, to get some space from the mess I made. I let him walk out that door, right into the path of those hellhounds."
Sam's expression softened as he turned to face her fully. "Jo, you can't blame yourself for what happened. Dean would've gone outside either way. Hellhounds are sneaky—they could've come at any time. This thing we're facing? It's bigger than any of us. Dean, me, you... We're all in its crosshairs. But none of this is your fault."
Ellen nodded in agreement, her voice steady but gentle. "Jo, Sam's right. Dean could have walked out that door at any time. But what I think is more important is that it's time for you to take your heart back. You've been holding on to guilt and feelings for too long. If you feel like you need to talk to him, apologize, or just clear the air—do it. But what happened tonight? That's not on you, honey."
Jo, her eyes shimmering with tears, looked at her mother. "You're right," she whispered, her voice heavy with emotion. She quickly wiped her eyes and exhaled a shaky breath. "How's Maverick holding up through all this?" She asked, clearly trying to shift the conversation away from her own feelings.
Sam couldn't help but smile slightly, knowing Jo's intent. "She's strong. Honestly, I think the second Dean's up and about, she's going to let him have it," he said, a small chuckle escaping him.
Jo laughed weakly, but it was enough to lighten the room's tense mood. Ellen turned back to the stove, smirking. "Sounds like she doesn't take any of his crap?"
Sam grinned. "You've got that right. She's basically Dean, but sweeter. A lot more... patient, too. But when she's had enough, Dean better watch out."
"I like her already," Ellen said, stirring the pot on the stove. "I can't wait to officially meet her. Speaking of which, food's done. Why don't you go get her?"
"Sure," Sam agreed, standing up. "I'll see if I can pry her away from Dean for a little while."
With that, Sam left the kitchen, walking the short distance through the small living area in the back of the bar. The room was dimly lit, and as Sam stepped quietly inside, he could see Maverick sitting beside Dean's resting form, her hand gently stroking his hair as he slept. The sight of her so protective, so quietly fierce in her love for him, struck Sam.
"Hey," Sam whispered, not wanting to startle her. "Food's ready. You should come eat, even if it's just for a few minutes."
Maverick looked up, her tired eyes meeting Sam's. She hesitated for a moment, glancing down at Dean, then nodded. "Yeah… okay. I'll come." She stood up slowly, giving Dean one last glance before following Sam out of the room.
Jo and Ellen were already seated at the table, eating, when Sam entered with Maverick trailing behind him. It was the first time they had truly seen her up close. Before, they'd only caught glimpses of her amidst the chaos. Ellen was struck by Maverick's beauty—her long, wavy red hair reaching the middle of her back, and her bright green eyes standing out even in the dim light. She could instantly see why Dean had fallen for her.
Maverick approached the table, a warm smile on her face, and extended her hand to both women. "Hi, I'm Maverick. It's finally nice to meet the both of you. Dean's told me a lot about you."
Ellen shook her hand first, smiling warmly. "Ellen, and this is my daughter Jo. It's nice to finally meet the woman that Dean and Sam can't seem to stop talking about."
Maverick chuckled, her eyes bright with humor. "I hope it's all been good things because you never know what might come out of either of their mouths."
Jo let out a small laugh, but it was Sam who spoke up, his face feigning indignation. "Hey, our mouths? More like Dean's mouth."
Maverick laughed, shaking her head. "Fair point." She took a seat, joining the table as the conversation flowed a bit more freely.
Ellen smiled, already feeling a connection to this woman. "Well, from what we've heard, you've been nothing but good for him."
Maverick's smile softened, and she nodded. "He's been good for me too. More than he knows." Her eyes flickered for just a moment, a brief shadow of worry crossing them as she thought of Dean lying in the other room, recovering. But she pushed it aside, focusing on the warmth of the room.
Sam walked to the table with Maverick and plate and one for himself.
"Thanks, Sammy." Maverick said picking up a fork and started to eat.
As Jo observed Maverick, she couldn't help but feel a strange mixture of emotions—bitterness, acceptance, and a touch of admiration. Watching the woman who held Dean's heart, Jo saw qualities that were hard to dismiss, even if they made her feelings more complicated.
Maverick, with her long, fiery red hair and bright green eyes, exuded a warmth and confidence that seemed natural. Jo noticed the way she smiled when she spoke, the way her eyes sparkled with life and genuine emotion. There was nothing forced about Maverick—no pretense or arrogance. She was just herself, and that authenticity was something Jo respected, even though it stung to see Dean drawn to it.
As Maverick chatted easily with her mom and Sam, Jo could see how she fit in with them. Her laugh was light, and her presence, despite being physically petite, filled the room in a way that didn't feel overbearing. She had a calm strength, like someone who could weather any storm and still stand tall, and Jo couldn't help but understand why Dean had chosen her.
The way Maverick carried herself—confident, but not in a showy way—spoke volumes about the kind of woman she was. Jo saw a partner for Dean, someone who could challenge him and still be his support. And even though it hurt, Jo knew Maverick was the kind of woman Dean needed. Maverick's curves, her feminine grace, and that undeniable magnetism only added to the feeling that Jo was witnessing someone who had found a place in Dean's heart that was meant for her.
Jo swallowed hard, realizing that Maverick wasn't just beautiful on the outside, but there was a depth to her—a sense of purpose and loyalty that matched Dean's. It made the pill harder to swallow, but as Jo continued to observe, she began to accept that Maverick was more than just a pretty face. She was the kind of woman who could stand by Dean in ways Jo knew she never could.
Jo had been quiet for most of the conversation, her mind racing with the realization of what she was witnessing. It wasn't just that Maverick held Dean's heart—there was something deeper here. As she watched Maverick interact with Sam, Jo saw an effortless bond between them. The way they teased each other, the sibling-like affection, and the mutual respect they shared was undeniable. Maverick adored Sam, and Sam treated her like the sister he never had. It wasn't just about Dean finding someone for himself; it felt like the three of them were meant to be together in this tight-knit, unbreakable unit.
In that moment, something shifted in Jo. She had carried her feelings for Dean for so long, but seeing this, she understood. Maverick wasn't just the woman Dean chose—she was the right woman for him. And seeing the way Sam loved her like family only solidified it. Maverick completed their circle in a way Jo never could.
Jo cleared her throat softly, her voice surprising even herself as she spoke. "I'm glad Dean found someone to make him happy."
Her words hung in the air for a moment, and everyone turned to look at her. Maverick seemed taken aback, a mix of shock and gratitude flashing across her face. "Thank you," Maverick replied, clearly not expecting the compliment.
Jo shook her head, a bit embarrassed at her sudden outburst, but also determined to say what was on her heart. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to just blurt that out. It's just—when I first found out Dean was married, I'll admit, it hurt. I was angry, and I let him have it. But after meeting you, I get it now. I can see why he picked you. You're perfect for him, and he's perfect for you."
Her voice softened, and the tension that had been weighing her down for so long began to ease. "You're his match, and he's yours."
Maverick blinked, her expression softening, clearly moved by Jo's words. She hadn't expected this moment, this kind of acceptance, especially after the initial tension. Jo felt something lift inside her—a release, a letting go. This was the moment she finally took her heart back from Dean. The weight of unspoken feelings she had carried for so long was gone. It wasn't just about stepping aside; it was about truly understanding that Dean had found his person, and Jo could move forward, free from what might have been.
Maverick gave Jo a small, appreciative smile. "That means more than you know."
And just like that, the air between them changed. It wasn't heavy or awkward anymore—it was lighter, and Jo knew she was finally ready to let go and move on. Dean had found his family, and Jo was at peace with that.
It was late night, edging into the early hours of the morning. The bar was quiet, the only sounds the occasional creak of the floorboards and the distant wind howling outside. Inside, the group remained vigilant, taking turns on watch. Sam sat in the bar area, leaning back in his chair, eyes scanning the room as he watched over them, his thoughts heavy with everything that had happened. Jo and Ellen slept in the back, resting for the first time in hours, while Maverick lay on a small cot beside the couch where Dean was recovering.
Maverick had fought her exhaustion for as long as she could, but eventually, sleep took over. Her body gave in, though her mind lingered near consciousness, attuned to Dean's every breath. The connection between them, stronger than ever, hummed in the silence of the room. Even in her sleep, she could feel him.
Dean, however, was not resting as peacefully.
His body twitched as the nightmare gripped him. In his dream, he was trapped, watching helplessly as the Shadow Reaper claimed Maverick and Sam, dragging them into darkness. He could hear their screams, could feel the hellhounds tearing into him, but he was powerless to stop it. His limbs were heavy, weighed down as if he was moving through quicksand, unable to reach them. Blood poured from his wounds, and the hounds circled closer, snarling, their red eyes glowing. The Reaper's skeletal grin taunted him from the shadows.
"No," Dean muttered in his sleep, his voice hoarse, as his body jerked involuntarily. "Not them…"
Maverick stirred at the sound of his voice. Her eyes fluttered open, immediately sensing something was wrong. She glanced over at Dean, seeing the pained expression on his face, his fists clenching at the blanket, his entire body rigid. His breathing was labored, sharp and uneven.
"Dean," she whispered, sitting up quickly. She reached out and placed her hand gently on his arm, her heart racing as she watched him struggle against the unseen horrors in his mind.
Dean thrashed again, his voice louder now, more desperate. "Mav! Sam!" His chest heaved as though he were fighting for air, his brow glistening with sweat.
"Maverick," Dean mumbled in his sleep, his face twisted in anguish. His voice trembled as he thrashed against the invisible enemies in his dream, his hands clawing at the blanket.
"Dean!" Maverick said, more forcefully this time, gripping his hand tightly as she knelt beside him. Her heart ached at the sight of him, trapped in a nightmare so real it was tearing him apart. She moved her hand from his arm to his face, gently cupping his cheek, trying to calm the storm raging inside him. "Dean, wake up! It's just a dream. I'm here."
She leaned in closer, resting her forehead against his, her breath warm against his skin as her tears welled up. Maverick closed her eyes, focusing all her energy on him, trying to reach him. In that moment, she felt their connecting their souls. She focused on that connection, hoping it would pull him out of the darkness.
"Dean, please," she whispered, her voice trembling. "You're dreaming. I'm okay. We're okay. Please wake up."
In his dream, Dean was still surrounded by the hellhounds, their snarls echoing in his mind as they closed in on him. He felt powerless, his strength fading, and just as he thought he'd lose everything—Maverick, Sam, himself—he saw it. A light, faint at first, but growing brighter, cutting through the darkness like a beacon. There was something about it that felt… familiar. Safe. Like home.
Dean stopped struggling. His heart, racing just moments before, began to slow as he watched the light approach. He knew that light. It wasn't just any light—it was Maverick. He could hear her voice calling to him, calm and strong, cutting through the chaos.
"Dean, wake up. I'm okay."
The light wrapped around him, pushing back the hellhounds, the darkness, the Reaper's haunting presence. Dean let it envelop him, feeling the warmth of her love, the strength of her presence. He stopped fighting, stopped resisting, and for the first time in what felt like forever, he felt… peace.
He closed his eyes.
The next moment, Dean opened his eyes again, and the nightmare was gone. He wasn't trapped in darkness anymore; he was in the bar, safe. And Maverick was there, her face inches from his, tears brimming in her bright green eyes.
"Maverick…" he whispered, his voice hoarse and broken. Without thinking, Dean's shaking hand moved to her face, brushing away a tear with his thumb before pulling her into him. His arms wrapped around her as tightly as he could manage, desperate to feel her, to know she was real.
Maverick let him hold her, careful not to press too hard against his injuries. She could feel the desperation in his embrace, the fear still lingering in his trembling hands. She stroked his hair gently, whispering, "I'm here, Dean. It was just a dream. You're safe."
Dean buried his face in her neck, his breath shaky and uneven as he tried to ground himself in the reality of her touch, the softness of her voice. "I thought I lost you," he mumbled into her skin, his voice barely audible. "They were taking you… taking Sam. And I couldn't stop it."
Maverick's heart broke at the pain in his voice. She pulled back just enough to look into his eyes, her hands still cradling his face. "You didn't lose us," she said softly but firmly, her voice full of conviction. "We're right here. I'm not going anywhere, Dean. Neither is Sam. We're in this together."
Dean's grip on her loosened slightly, the tension in his body slowly melting away. He rested his forehead against hers, his breathing finally starting to even out. "You're my light, Mav," he whispered, his voice rough. "Please don't ever let that burn out.."
"I don't plan on it," Maverick replied, her lips brushing his forehead. "I love you Dean."
"I love you Mav."
For a long moment, they stayed like that—foreheads touching, hearts beating in sync. Maverick could feel the tension in Dean's body finally melting away, his breathing softening as the nightmare loosened its grip. She wiped away the last of his tears, her hand brushing gently against his cheek. But just as she was about to pull back, Dean's hand shot up, catching her wrist. Without a word, he pulled her down to him, his lips crashing into hers with an intensity that took her breath away. It wasn't just a kiss—it was desperate, raw, like his very life depended on the connection between them in that moment.
As they kissed, a radiant white light began to swell around them, slowly at first, then growing brighter, more intense. Neither of them seemed to notice, too wrapped up in each other. But in the doorway, Sam stepped into the room and immediately shielded his eyes from the blinding glow. The light was pure, powerful, but Sam wasn't afraid of it. He instinctively knew what it was—the light of the Blade, the bond between his brother and Maverick, stronger than ever before.
And then, just as suddenly as it had appeared, the light flared, a brilliant flash that pulsed through the room like a heartbeat, burning even brighter. Sam staggered back, momentarily blinded by the intensity. When the glow finally began to fade, he uncovered his eyes and saw Maverick and Dean lying together, the air still crackling with energy.
Maverick pulled away from the kiss, breathless, her face a mixture of shock and confusion as she looked down at Dean. Her wide, green eyes darted to his chest, where his cuts—the ones that had been raw and painful just moments ago—were now healed. The skin was smooth, though still slightly pink and tender, as if the wounds had been sealed by something beyond natural healing. Her eyes flickered down to his legs, the same shock registering as she moved the covers away, revealing that his injuries were also gone.
Dean, confused and groggy, looked up at his wife, then turned to Sam, whose face mirrored the same disbelief. Sam, finally able to process what he was seeing, stepped closer, his eyes scanning his brother's body, trying to make sense of it all.
"How…?" Sam's voice was barely above a whisper, the question hanging in the air as he tried to understand what had just happened.
Dean, still dazed, looked between Maverick and Sam, realization slowly dawning on him. "Maverick!" he shouted, snapping out of his shock as he reached for the covers, yanking them from her hands to pull over his bare legs. He sat up, expecting the sharp, searing pain that had wracked his body for hours, but instead… there was nothing. No agony, no blinding pain. Just a deep, throbbing ache, like he'd been hit by a truck but could walk away from it.
He glanced down at his chest, then at Maverick, his voice low and confused. "What the hell just happened?" His hand moved instinctively to touch the spot where the hellhound's claws had torn into him. "I shouldn't be able to move right now. I should be…" He trailed off, still trying to wrap his mind around what he was feeling—or not feeling.
Maverick stood beside him, her own hand trembling as she reached out, gingerly tracing the now-healed scar on his chest. "Dean… I don't know. I just—when I kissed you, and…" Maverick was lost for words as she look at her husband.
Sam, now standing closer, shook his head, trying to make sense of what he'd seen. "It was the Blade," he murmured, his voice filled with awe. "The bond between you two… it's stronger than we thought. It's like… your light, Maverick, it healed him."
Dean looked up at Maverick, his brow furrowed, but there was a soft smile tugging at his lips. "You're telling me… my wife's a miracle worker now?" He grinned, though it was clear he still didn't fully understand what had happened.
Maverick couldn't help but laugh through her tears, her relief palpable. "I guess so," she said softly, her hand still resting on his chest. "But Dean… you're okay. That's all that matters."
Dean wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close again, careful not to press too hard. "I don't know what I did to deserve you," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "But I'm damn glad you're here."
Sam watched the two of them, a sense of peace settling over him. For the first time in what felt like forever, there was hope. Whatever had just happened—whatever miracle they had just witnessed—he knew one thing for sure: they were stronger together than they could ever be apart.
Dean released Maverick just enough to look at Sam, a mischievous smirk forming on his face. "And you—stop staring at my naked body, man."
Sam rolled his eyes, but a smile tugged at his lips. "Just making sure you're not dead, Dean."
Dean laughed, the sound rich and real, cutting through the tension. "Not today, Sammy. Not today."
In the shadows of a dark, dank cave, the Reaper seethed with rage. His skeletal fingers clenched tight around his scythe, the cold, black steel vibrating with the intensity of his fury. He had been so close—so close to ending Dean Winchester once and for all. But it wasn't Dean's strength that thwarted him. It was her. Maverick.
The Reaper's hollow eyes flickered with a malevolent glow as he thought of her. She hadn't just saved Dean from the hellhounds; she had reached him even in his nightmares, her light piercing through the darkness that should've consumed him. Her power was stronger than he had anticipated, and that infuriated him.
The Reaper had underestimated her, but he wouldn't make that mistake again.
Sitting in the black silence of the cave, he realized the path forward was clear. It wasn't Dean he needed to target anymore. Dean was protected by Maverick's light, her bond with him forming an impenetrable shield. If he wanted to break them, it had to be through the one person who was starting to unravel the truth—Sam.
A cruel smile stretched across the Reaper's face, his skeletal grin more sinister in the darkness. Sam Winchester had always been the key, whether he realized it or not. The darkness within him, the power he fought so hard to keep buried, was still there—waiting, festering. The Reaper knew that if he could tap into that darkness, if he could push Sam just enough, the younger Winchester would break. And once Sam was broken, it would be easy to make him turn against the others.
But Sam was smart—too smart for the Reaper's usual tricks. He had already begun to piece things together, to understand the role he played in this cosmic game. That made him dangerous, but also vulnerable. The Reaper would have to be careful, patient. He would need to get close to Sam in ways the hunter wouldn't see coming, planting seeds of doubt, fear, and mistrust. And when the time was right, Sam's inner darkness would consume him.
The Reaper turned slowly as he walked through the cave into an open room where the other lower Reapers sat waiting. His hollow eyes glowing faintly in the dark as he contemplated the gravity of the situation. Sam Winchester was far more than just a piece in the game—he was the Guardian of the Light. If Sam discovered this truth, that he stood between the forces of light and shadow, it would change everything. Maverick's light was powerful, but Sam's connection to the Blade and his role as Guardian made him the true linchpin.
If Sam ever uncovered his real potential, if the brothers and Maverick worked together in harmony, they would become an unstoppable force. It would be the end of the Reaper's plan, the destruction of the darkness he sought to control, and the Blade would forever be out of his reach.
The Reaper's skeletal fingers twitched in frustration at the thought. His voice was low, rasping like dry leaves on stone as he finally spoke.
"The last thing we can afford is for Sam to learn the truth," he growled. "He cannot realize that he is the Guardian. If he does... then all is lost."
One of the head Reapers, standing obediently at the entrance of the cave, asked hesitantly, "Sir, what is our next move to getting to Sam?"
The Reaper's grin returned, malevolent and calculated. "We do what we always do. We make him doubt. His heart is strong, but his mind... his mind is where we strike. His weakness lies in the guilt he carries—the burden of his past, the darkness he's tried to bury. We will exploit that."
The Reaper paused, his voice becoming colder. "We will make him believe that the darkness is still a part of him, that he is a danger to those he loves. Make him think he cannot protect Maverick, nor Dean. He'll begin to see himself as a threat, not a protector. And when that seed of doubt takes root, we will use it to drive him into isolation."
He turned fully to the head Reaper, his hollow gaze sharp with intent. "Send the dreams again. But this time, focus on Maverick. Make her the victim in his nightmares. Show him what it would be like if he were the one to destroy her. If we can break his spirit, he will be ours."
The head Reaper nodded solemnly, fading into the shadows to carry out the order.
The lead Reaper watched him go, his smile growing darker. Sam Winchester was the key to everything, and the Reaper would ensure that Sam's light never fully realized its power. The shadows would consume him before that ever happened.
It was only a matter of time.
