The abandoned warehouse was thick with dust, broken windows letting in only slivers of moonlight. Blood spattered across the concrete floor, the air heavy with the copper tang of blood. What was supposed to be a simple case had spiraled out of control. Sam, Dean, and Castiel were backed into a corner, their weapons slick with gore, breathing ragged from the sheer number of vampires swarming them.

“There’s too many!” Sam shouted, swinging his machete into the neck of a snarling vamp, decapitating it in one brutal motion.

Dean was at his side, cursing under his breath as another vampire lunged at him, teeth snapping just shy of his throat. He shoved it back, only to be grabbed from behind. The hunters were overwhelmed, the nest larger and stronger than they’d anticipated.

“I told you this was a setup!” Dean grunted, fighting to get free.

Before the vampires could close in for the kill, the sound of heavy boots echoed through the warehouse. A blur of motion swept past them—fluid, calculated, deadly. Heads rolled to the floor as a stranger carved through the nest with frightening precision. A long black leather coat flared with every movement, silver glinting under the broken lights. Black sunglasses hid their eyes, tattoos coiled down their arms, and every strike was laced with experience.

The vampires began to falter, their snarls turning to fear as the stranger cut them down one after another. Within minutes, the warehouse floor was littered with headless corpses, silence settling heavy in the aftermath.

The figure turned, lowering their blade, coat falling still around them. The Winchester brothers and Castiel stared in disbelief.

“Who the hell…” Dean muttered, catching his breath. ”…are you?”

The stranger tilted their head slightly, a faint smirk playing at their lips. A badass hunter, one who clearly knew the job inside and out. Whoever they were, they had just saved the Winchesters from certain death.