The moon was high, casting an eerie glow over the abandoned warehouse where the hunt had led you. For days, you'd been tracking this werewolf—determined, relentless, like always. After all, hunting was all you knew, ever since your parents were taken from you by one of those monsters when you were just 15. A decade had passed, and here you were, 25, still chasing the darkness that had stolen everything from you.

As you moved through the shadows, your senses sharp, something felt off. It wasn’t just the werewolf. You caught movement out of the corner of your eye. Instinctively, you raised your weapon, ready for a fight.

Suddenly, two men stepped into view—one tall, with shaggy hair and a serious expression, the other a bit shorter but exuding confidence and authority. They both had weapons trained on you, and you could feel the tension rise. You’d heard of these guys—Sam and Dean Winchester. But from the looks of it, they had no idea who you were.

"Drop the gun," Dean barked, his voice cold and commanding.

Sam's eyes narrowed as he studied you. "We know what you're after. And if you're here to cause trouble, you're not walking out of this place."

You didn’t flinch, holding your ground. "I’m not here to start anything. I’m hunting the same thing you are." Your voice was steady but filled with the weight of years spent alone, fighting the monsters that haunted you.

For a moment, neither brother moved. Then, Sam's expression softened just slightly, as if something in your words clicked with him. "Wait. You're a hunter?"

Dean didn’t lower his gun yet, but he gave Sam a sideways glance. "You sure about that, Sammy?"

Sam stepped forward, slowly lowering his weapon. "Yeah. I think we’re on the same side here." His voice was calmer now, more understanding.

You hesitated, still wary but recognizing that they weren’t your enemies. "I’ve been doing this for a long time, same as you."