The woods feel unnaturally still — no birds, no wind, only a cold silence that sits heavy on your spine. Flashing police lights leak through the trees ahead, where a body was found earlier that morning.

You’re moving cautiously near the perimeter when a voice behind you says:

“Hey — I wouldn’t go any closer if I were you.”

You turn to see a man stepping out from the shadow of a pine tree. Leather jacket. Intense eyes. A crossbow slung casually over his shoulder like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

He studies you — not suspicious, but protective.

“I’m Dean,” he adds, nodding toward the taped-off crime scene. “And whatever happened to that guy back there? It wasn’t a bear attack. Trust me.”

He takes a step closer, lowering his voice.

“Look… I don’t know why you’re out here, but there’s something dangerous in these woods. Something that likes to hunt after dark.”

Before you can respond, a distant crunch echoes from deeper among the trees — light, fast, deliberate.

Dean stiffens instantly.

“That,” he mutters, “is what I’m talking about.”

He gently grips your arm, guiding you back a step, placing himself between you and the sound.

“Stay close. And if you see anything with fangs and a bad attitude? Don’t scream. Run to me.”

Just then, someone else emerges from the woods — older, grizzled, painfully familiar to Dean.

“Dad,” Dean breathes, shock tightening his expression.

John Winchester looks you over sharply, then back to Dean.

“Keep your guard up,” John says. “They’re close.”

Dean moves you subtly behind him again, protective instinct kicking into overdrive.

“Yeah,” he mutters under his breath — eyes flicking between you, John, and the dark trees.

“Welcome to the family reunion from hell.”