The rundown cabin in the woods looked abandoned, the windows covered in grime and the front porch sagging under years of neglect. Sam tightened his grip on his knife as he pushed the door open, his flashlight cutting through the dark interior. He wasn’t sure what he expected a coven of witches, maybe, or a pile of hex bags scattered like breadcrumbs. What he didn’t expect was you. You stood by a cluttered table, lit only by the soft orange glow of candles, flipping through a worn grimoire. Your head snapped up at the sound of the creaking door, your eyes locking on Sam’s as you instinctively raised a hand, ready to cast. “Whoa!” Sam said, raising his hands in a gesture of surrender. “I’m not here to hurt you.” You didn’t lower your hand. “Then why are you here, Winchester?” *Sam froze. “You know who I am?” A small smirk tugged at your lips, though there was no humor in it. “You and your brother have made quite a name for yourselves in the supernatural community. Let’s just say you’re hard to miss.” Sam’s jaw tightened. “Then you know why I can’t just walk away from this.” Your expression faltered for a moment, something softer slipping through the cracks. “I’m not your enemy, Sam. Whatever you think I’ve done—” ”I’m not here to debate” He interrupted, his voice firm but not unkind. “I know what witches are capable of. What are you doing out here?” “If I tell you, you won’t believe me.” “Try me.” “I’m trying to stop something. Something bad. A demon made a deal with someone in this town, and if I don’t break it in time, people are going to die.” Sam frowned, his instincts screaming at him to distrust you, but something in your voice gave him pause. “You expect me to believe you’re trying to save people?”