strobing in the rearview mirror like an omen.

Jovi's gaze snapped to the wing mirror, her eyes locking onto the cop car that was tailing them. "We haven't even done anything illegal yet," she muttered, her voice edged with frustration.

"Just let me do the talking," Dean replied, his voice steady, but she could see the tension tightening his knuckles on the steering wheel. He eased Baby to the side of the road, the Impala's growl fading into a reluctant silence. Reaching into the glove compartment, he pulled out the first fake I.D. his fingers landed on. His eyes scanned the name, his brow furrowing in mild distaste, before he shrugged. The cop, his aviator sunglasses reflecting Dean's scowl back at him, approached the window, his swagger a blend of authority and arrogance. "What's the problem, officer?" Dean asked, his tone laced with a false innocence.

"License and registration." The officer's southern drawl dripped like molasses, thick and slow, grating on Jovi's nerves. Dean handed over the documents, and the officer's lip curled in a sneer as he read the name. "Ashley J. Williams, huh?" he said, his voice almost mocking.

Dean offered a tight, humorless smile. "You can call me Ash."

The officer's grin widened, but there was no humor in it. "Out of the car, Ashley. The kid too."

Dean exchanged a glance with Jovi, his eyes speaking the unspoken language of shared unease. As he climbed out of the Impala, Jovi followed, her eyes flicking toward the second cop who lingered near the back of the car, his presence a silent threat. Dean gave her a small nod, a signal to stay calm, as he shoved his hands into his jacket pockets.

"Well, I wasn't speeding, and I'm sober—mostly sober. So what's this about?" Dean's voice held a casual defiance, the kind that masked the simmering anger beneath the surface.

"Blinker's out," the officer said flatly.

Jovi's eyes darted to the back of the car just in time to see the second cop raise his nightstick and bring it crashing down onto Baby's right-side taillight. The shattering glass was like the sound of a heart breaking, and both Winchesters straightened, their postures rigid with fury. "Hey!" they shouted in unison, their voices sharp as knives.

"That's a violation," the officer said smugly, his tone oozing with satisfaction. He moved toward the second taillight, and Dean's voice cut through the air, low and dangerous.

"Don't." It was a command, a warning wrapped in a single word.

The cop ignored him, smashing the other taillight with a sickening crunch. "Two lights out," he said, his grin widening.

"Son of a bitch!" Dean lunged toward the cop, his patience snapping like a frayed rope, but the other officer was on him in an instant, slamming him against the Impala's sleek black frame and locking his wrists in handcuffs. "And attempted assault of a police officer. Looks like we're taking you down to the station, boy."

Dean's eyes burned with fury. "Oh, I ain't your boy, Cletus."

"Right now, you are," the cop sneered. "So you best settle down, or you're gonna get an ass-whuppin' instead of a phone call."

Jovi's temper flared white-hot, and before she could think, she was moving. Her fist collided with the officer's nose with a solid crunch, sending him staggering back, clutching his face. "God, I hate Kentucky fried assholes," she spat, her voice dripping with disdain. "Seriously, the accent? Bit dramatic, don't you think?"

The other cop's face twisted with shock and anger. "Hey! That is assault of an officer!" he barked, his grip on Dean tightening.

Dean's smirk returned, a glint of pride in his eyes as he watched his daughter stand her ground. But his expression shifted to alarm as he saw the other officer recover, a taser now clutched in his hand. "Jov, watch out!"

But the warning came too late. The taser's prongs bit into her skin, and electricity surged through her body, a thousand needles of pain seizing her muscles. She crumpled to the ground, her body convulsing, her breath stolen by the shock.

"Jovi!" Dean's voice was a raw cry of despair as he struggled against the cuffs, helpless as he watched his daughter collapse, the life that had blazed so fiercely in her dimming under the harsh flicker of the taser's cruel spark.

☆

Jovi Winchester sat in the cramped, dimly lit office, her legs propped up on the wooden desk. She played with a ring on her finger, glancing over at the exhausted officer who'd been stuck with babysitting duty. The officer, a grizzled man in his mid-forties with a thinning hairline, looked like he'd rather be anywhere else but here. He sighed deeply, rubbing his temples as Jovi began her third consecutive story. She was determined to break this man with her non stop chatter, she had been coming up with bullshit stories for the past hour and this man seemed on the verge of throwing himself out of the window

"...and that's how I ended up with a pet iguana named Balthazar. You'd think he'd be more into bugs and less into French pastries, but who am I to judge? He's got a taste for the finer things in life. Unlike you, Officer Grumpy, who looks like you haven't had a good donut in, what, two weeks? Three? That's a travesty, by the way. If I were in charge here, donuts would be a basic human right. None of that stale coffee shop nonsense either. I'm talking gourmet, the kind with sprinkles and cream filling—"

"Kid," the officer groaned, cutting her off, "could you, I don't know, stop talking for five minutes?"

Jovi grinned widely, as if he'd just complimented her on a job well done. She reached up to her hair continuing "Five minutes? That's like, forever in teenage years. You know, scientifically speaking, I'm pretty sure it's impossible for me to keep quiet for that long. Besides, what else am I supposed to do? It's not like you're giving me anything to work with here, Officer Boredom. Hey, what's your first name, anyway? Is it Bob? You look like a Bob. Or maybe it's Phil. Ooh, I bet it's something cool like Maverick, right?"

The officer stared at her, eyes heavy with regret for whatever life choices had led him to this moment. "It's Frank," he muttered, as if admitting it out loud was some kind of defeat.

"Frank! Classic! You don't see too many Franks these days. Frank Sinatra, Frankenstein, hot dogs — it's a name with history, you know? Solid choice by your parents. But seriously, Frank, what's with the whole 'silent treatment' thing? Are you secretly a mime? Can you do that whole walking against the wind bit? I've always wanted to learn that."

Frank looked like he was considering whether slamming his head against the table would knock him out and end this nightmare. "Look, Jovi, we're just waiting on your dad to finish up getting interrogated. You don't need to keep talking."

"But where's the fun in that?" Jovi chirped, spinning in her chair. "Besides, if I didn't keep talking, how would you know about the time I tried to make a flamethrower out of a can of hairspray? Or that one time I hustled some frat boys at pool? Hey, speaking of, do you think they have a pool table here? I bet I could teach you a thing or two. Maybe liven up the place. I could call it the Winchester Workshop. 'How to Not Suck at Pool and Other Life Skills,' by Jovi Winchester. You can be my first customer — no, wait, student. How's that sound?"

Frank leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling as if praying for divine intervention. "Please, just stop," he whispered.

Jovi opened her mouth to respond, but before she could unleash another tidal wave of chatter, the door swung open. Dean Winchester stepped in, his expression a mix of irritation and amusement as he surveyed the scene, a gun in his hand.

"There she is," Dean drawled, giving Frank a sympathetic nod. "Sorry about that, officer. She's a real talker."

Frank who almost didn't care that Dean was out of his interrogation and holding a gun shot the man a look of pure desperation. "You have no idea."

Jovi beamed up at her dad tossing the now unlocked cuffs onto the desk putting her bobby pin in her pocket making Frank's eyes widen. "Dad! You're just in time. Frank and I were having a deep, meaningful conversation about donuts, pool, and mime skills. But, you know, I think he was starting to crack. Probably all the charm I was throwing his way."

Frank stood abruptly hands reaching for his gun. Dean shook his head, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Let's get out of here before you actually break him, you wanna handle him or should I?" Jovi glanced at Frank who looked spooked shakily holding his gun up at them "hands where I can see them!" Jovi mockingly put her hands up in surrender "Frank, buddy, I thought we were bonding? Shame, anyway got places to be, people to see so I'm sorry" she swiftly disarmed him of his gun before swinging her fist for the second time that day hitting his jaw with a force that sent him to the ground. Jovi strolled alongside her father as they went to find the sheriff, Dean glanced at his daughter "what did you do to him? Dude looked ready to end it all" Jovi shrugged carelessly "told him about my pet iguana named Balthazar, I'm telling you if you'd given me five more minutes Frank would've let me go for free" Dean shook his head at his daughter and her ability to annoy people to the point of wanting to end it all "I don't blame him" Jovi sent her father a bitch face "rude".

The duo made their way to the Sheriffs Office where they found the man standing at the window talking to someone on his phone. He didn't realise the two Winchesters had entered the office, both holding guns in their hands "He was driving a '67 Impala, just like you said. The kid was with him too...Sure, can do."

"Who're you talking to?" Dean spoke up making the officer jump and turn to face the two "I..." he looked them over completely surprised to see them "Nobody."

Dean draws his gun, advancing on the officer with Jovi behind him

"Nobody?" Dean questioned before his face fell into a pissed off expression

punching the guy in the face with the gun."That is for lying to me, and that –" he punches him again "– is for my baby." Dean hit him once more "and that's for my daughter. Now." Dean threw the Officer onto the desk and holds him down, gun pointed at his throat yelling "Who were you talking to?"

"I'd tell him if I were you" Jovi chimed in sending him a smirk whilst crossing her arms over her chest watching the scene in front of her with amusement

"Monroe Styne. He said if I saw you I was supposed to bring you in. And then call him" the officer broke staring up at Dean with wide eyes "Monroe. Any relation to Eldon?"

"His daddy." The officer confirmed which made Jovi tense up, flashes of the bastard from the previous day angered her and knowing that the son of a bitch had people he cared about only motivated her to make him suffer for what he did to Charlie

"Where can we find him?" Jovi questioned her tone firm and demanding, the officer glanced over at her surprise on his face as he said "You can't take on the Stynes. They own this town. They're practically gods around here."

Dean smiled "Yeah, well we kill gods."

☆

It was late at night when Dean pulled up to the Styne estate. The moon hung low in the sky, shrouded by clouds that seemed to pulse with the same tension gripping Dean's chest. A light mist clung to the damp grass, curling around the roots of ancient oaks, their gnarled branches looming like skeletal fingers above the scene. Beyond the tree line, the mansion loomed, its dark silhouette broken only by the glow of the outside lights, casting long, sinister shadows that danced across the façade like specters in the night. The air was thick with the scent of wet earth and the quiet hum of approaching violence.

Jovi sat in the passenger seat, her hands steady as she loaded her gun. The metallic clicks were a cold symphony, punctuating the silence between them. Dean glanced at her, his face set in a stern, familiar expression. "Jovi—" he began, his voice heavy with the weight of the words he was about to say.

But before he could launch into the well-worn lecture of a father desperate to protect his daughter, Jovi cut him off. Her voice was sharp, laced with a raw edge that spoke of wounds deeper than the one on her body. "Before you give me the all-too-thrilling lecture about not going because I'm injured, let me remind you of something. These assholes killed Charlie right in front of me. They stabbed me and left me for dead. This is personal, Dad. I need to avenge her. So either you let me come with you, or I'll sneak out after you leave. The choice is yours, but I'm not sitting this out."

Dean stared at her, disbelief mingling with a deep, aching sorrow. In this moment, she wasn't the innocent little girl he had raised. She was a young woman, forged in the fires of loss and tempered by the steel of her resolve. It was like staring into a mirror, the reflection not of himself, but of who he had become over the years—a soldier, hardened and unyielding. Her jade eyes, once filled with curiosity and warmth, now burned with vengeance, a ruthless intensity that chilled him to the bone. He could see the storm brewing within her, a tempest of rage and pain, and it terrified him. She was becoming just like him—a warrior ready to descend into darkness. It was this side of himself he had always hoped she would never inherit. But here she was, ready for war.

"Okay," Dean said finally, his voice rough, betraying the turmoil churning inside him. "But you stay by my side, understand?"

Jovi nodded, her expression as serious as the grave. Her eyes met his, a silent promise passing between them. If staying close to him was what it took to get her chance at justice, then she would do it. "I understand," she muttered, the words heavy with unspoken determination.

Dean nodded in return, the moment stretching out like a taut wire, humming with the tension of what was to come. He grabbed his own gun, the weight of it familiar, yet somehow more burdensome than ever before. "Let's go."

Together, they stepped out of the car, into the night that was both their battlefield and their fate. The Styne estate loomed before them, a fortress of darkness and despair, but they were ready. The air seemed to hold its breath as father and daughter, bound by blood and vengeance, marched towards the inevitable.

A man guarding the front of the Styne house looked around at his surroundings. Apparently satisfied he was alone, he started to walk off, but then Dean jumped him and stabbing a knife into his neck, killing him instantly. The man glanced over his shoulder nodding to his daughter who jogged over to him the two of them leaving the guard dead on the ground and walked toward the house.

Near the front door, another man was standing guard. He seemed to sense something, and walks forward a bit, looking around. When he turns back to face the door, he saw Dean standing there, with another guy in a headlock. Before he can react a bullet flies through his skull, the man's body hitting the ground revealing Jovi stood behind him her gun having been fitted with a silencer — so had Dean's. Dean then shoots his own guy sending Jovi a nod of appreciation she simply waved him off.

The two slipped into the house, Dean leading the way with a cautious, deliberate step. The door groaned on its hinges as it creaked open, revealing a dark, cavernous foyer that seemed to swallow the faint light spilling in from outside. The air inside was thick and still, weighed down by the low, haunting strains of old jazz music that drifted through the rooms like the echo of a long-forgotten past. Jovi's eyes darted around, her senses heightened, expecting to see guards lurking in the shadows. The silence was unsettling, like the calm before a storm.

She squinted towards the dimly lit room on her right, trying to make out any shapes or movement, but the darkness clung to the corners like a shroud. Just as she took a step forward, Dean's arm shot out in front of her, a silent command to stop. The tension crackled between them, sharp as a blade, and then, without warning, the room was flooded with harsh, glaring light. Jovi's breath caught in her throat as the darkness dissolved, revealing at least ten figures perched along the stair railings above, each one with a gun trained on them. The muzzles of the weapons gleamed like predatory eyes, cold and unblinking.

From the midst of the armed figures, an older man emerged, his presence commanding the room. He descended the stairs with a slow, measured grace, his sharp light grey suit catching the light with every step. His expression was a mask of cold calculation, eyes glinting with the confidence of someone who knew he held all the cards. The soft jazz continued to play in the background, an eerie soundtrack to the deadly standoff, as the man reached the bottom of the stairs and locked eyes with Dean, a twisted smile curling at the corner of his lips.

"Dean and Jovi Winchester."

From behind the pair, two guys pull a plastic bag over the Winchesters heads. Both struggling for air as Jovi clawed at the large man behind hers hands but slowly she felt the energy draining from her, her vision fading in and out before finally she collapsed.

☆

When Jovi came to, a blinding light pierced her vision, forcing her to squint as a migraine began to pound at her temples. Her entire body was bound to the cold, unforgiving metal table beneath her, the chill seeping into her bones. The rough leather straps dug into her wrists and ankles, trapping her in place. She turned her head slightly, her gaze settling on the opposite side of the room, where her father lay in the same helpless position. Fucking fantastic, she thought, a bitter smile curling at the corners of her mouth. Nothing like being tied down in some creepy old guy's basement.

She quickly assessed her surroundings, but the man hadn't noticed her consciousness yet, his attention fixed on her father. Monroe, an older man with a twisted grin that seemed permanently etched into his weathered face, was pacing leisurely around Dean, his voice dripping with mockery.

"Well, I have to say, I'm impressed," Monroe drawled, leaning over Dean with the air of a man savoring his prey. "The way you charged in here, all guns blazing'. I'd buy tickets to that show. But you didn't actually think that was gonna work, did you?"

Dean met Monroe's gaze with a look of detached bravado, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Usually does."

Monroe chuckled darkly, the sound reverberating off the cold, stone walls. "Then I guess you know what comes next." He turned to glance at Eli, his son, and then at the nurse who hovered near Jovi. Dean's eyes flicked to his daughter, noticing her consciousness in an instant. He fought to keep his face neutral, refusing to give away the advantage. "You gonna play Operation?" he asked, his tone light despite the gravity of the situation.

Monroe grinned, his smile more predatory than amused. "It is my favorite game." Eli moved to stand by Dean's head, looking down on him with a sinister gleam in his eye.

"Don't do this," Dean demanded, his voice hardening with a warning edge.

"Well, son, we're... we're past the bargaining stage," Monroe replied coolly. Jovi, meanwhile, tried to slip her hand through the leather bounds, her fingers straining against the restraint, but the straps held firm, frustrating her efforts. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest, the rhythm growing more frantic with each passing second.

Dean spoke again, his voice low and dangerous. "No.