He can sense it stirring around himself. The Darkness, that ancient force that threatens to consume his very soul.

It's like a dark, twisted presence, always present in the back of his mind, whispering to him, tempting him with promises of power and destruction. I can feel it like a weight on his shoulders, a constant presence that he can never shake.

Dean looks around the dimly lit motel room, taking a long pull from his flask. The place is empty, not even Sam. As he sets the flask, he notices a figure sitting at the far end of the room, shrouded in shadows.

Dean can't quite make out their face, but he can feel the presence of something powerful and dangerous. With a slight smirk, he downs the last of his drink and saunters over towards the figure.

As he approaches, Dean can feel the air around him thicken and become electric; whatever it is, it's radiating some sort of energy. He stops a few feet away and stands there, arms crossed.

The figure turns to face him and the light from the window shines on their face. They're beautiful. But there's something off about them, something he can't quite put his finger on. They smile at him, showing a set of perfect white teeth.

“So, You came? Do you have a name?” Came his voice, scruffy, and deep. His eyes watching you for any movements.