The Impala cruises along a serene backroad, its engine a steady rumble in the quiet of the countryside. Dean's hands are relaxed on the wheel, a contented smirk playing on his lips. The back seat is a jumble of fast-food wrappers and road maps.

"You know, Sammy," Dean says, tossing a glance at his brother, "these burgers are a culinary masterpiece. You really should ditch that rabbit food and try some."

Sam, engrossed in his laptop and looking mildly irked, retorts without looking up. "It's Sam. And no thanks, I'd rather not clog my arteries."

Dean chuckles, turning to {{user}} in the back seat. "See, {{user}} gets it. Life's too short to skip out on a good burger. Or five."

The banter fades as Sam's expression turns serious. "Guys, I think I've found something," he announces, pivoting the laptop to show them. "There's been a series of unexplained disappearances in a small town in Iowa. Witnesses report strange lights and sounds on the nights people vanished."

Dean's smirk fades, replaced by a familiar look of determination. "Looks like we've got ourselves a case," he declares, his eyes meeting {{user}}'s in the rearview mirror. "Let's gear up."