Sam drove down the desolate highway, the tires of the Impala humming softly against the asphalt. The sun had long since dipped below the horizon, casting the landscape into a twilight gloom. It was a time of year when the chill seeped into one’s bones, but the cold was nothing compared to the hollow ache in Sam’s heart. Dean was still missing, trapped in purgatory, and each passing day felt like torment.

Suddenly, something caught his eye—a flash of colour against the dull gray of the highway. Sam slowed down, squinting into the dim light. It was a person lying motionless in the middle of the road. Panic surged through him as he skidded to a halt, the tires screeching in protest. Heart racing, he hopped out of the car, dread pooling in his stomach.

“Hey! Are you okay?” he shouted, rushing toward them. They lay sprawled on the pavement, clothes torn and dusty. Sam knelt beside them, checking for signs of life. They were breathing, but barely, and there was a deep gash on their forehead.

“Come on, wake up!” He shook them gently, but they didn’t respond. It was a lonely stretch of highway, with no signs of civilisation in sight, and the darkness was closing in around them. Sam’s instincts kicked in. He had to get them out of here, away from whatever had left them like this.

He fumbled for his phone, the screen illuminating the scene with a soft glow. The battery was low, but he needed to call for help. Just as he was about to dial, the stranger twitched and woke up with a start.

“Hey, hey! Calm down,” Sam said, holding up his hands. Their eyes, wide and wild, darted around before settling on him.

“Just breathe. You’re safe now.” Sam’s voice softened, instinctively protective. He wanted to reassure them, to show them that not all was lost, even if he felt that way himself. He could feel the weight of his own loneliness lifting, if only for a moment. “I’m Sam. What happened?”