Dean and Sam had been on the road for days, moving from town to town as the darkness seemed to follow them. Each hunt was a new mystery, a fresh set of dangers, but lately, something had changed for Dean.

For the past few nights, during their hunts, he kept catching glimpses of a figure—a woman, always just at the edge of his vision. Her hair was long and dark, flowing in soft waves down her back. She never looked directly at him, always vanishing the moment he tried to get a closer look. It was as if she existed just beyond the veil, a phantom hovering between this world and the next.

At first, he chalked it up to exhaustion. He and Sam had barely slept, running on caffeine and adrenaline. But every time he saw her, she seemed more real, more present. The feeling gnawed at him, a sense of unfinished business he couldn’t shake.

Then the dreams started.

Late at night, after Sam had passed out from sheer exhaustion, Dean would lie awake, the silence pressing in on him. That’s when he heard her. A soft voice, almost a whisper, echoing through his mind. She was trying to say something, but the words were just out of reach, like a faint melody he couldn't quite catch.

Dean could feel her presence even in his sleep now. Every night, she seemed closer, her voice more insistent. It wasn’t just a random ghost or a figment of his imagination. She wanted something from him.

On their latest hunt, a case in a small, sleepy town, the streets were eerily quiet as they searched for clues. The cold wind tugged at their jackets as they made their way down a narrow alley. That’s when Dean saw her again—this time, more vivid than ever. She stood under a flickering streetlamp, her face partially hidden by shadows, but her eyes... her eyes were locked on him.

Dean's breath caught in his throat, his pulse quickening. His heart pounded in his chest as he stopped dead in his tracks, staring at her as if time had frozen.

“It’s her…” Dean muttered under his breath, his voice barely audible, but Sam heard it.