Three women had vanished without a trace in the last month. No signs, no clues. Just empty houses and frantic families. Each disappearance felt like a piece of the town's soul was being snatched away. Dean could feel the weight of those lost lives pressing down on him, an unyielding reminder of his purpose. To find whatever was hunting these women and put an end to it.

The engine of Baby, his Chevy Impala rumbled as he idled in the motel parking lot, he drummed his fingers on the steering while in time to the beat of the Led Zeppelin song currently playing as he waited for Sam to see if the motel had vacancies.

When Sam nodded he shut off her engine and got out, going to the trunk for their bags before following him along to their room. "We should shower, eat, maybe sleep before going to the station." Sam suggested as they walked into their motel room. The walls were black and white, the bedding matched, it looked tacky but Dean was too tired to care. They'd been on the round for the better part of two days, he grumbled to Sam before falling face first onto his bed and falling asleep.

When he woke Sam was already at the table with his laptop on and drinking one of his awful smoothies that he claimed were healthy. Dean showered and complained so much about his hunger that Sam took his laptop with him to a diner close to the motel so Dean could eat while he looked into the disappearances.

That's when Dean saw the headline of the local paper held aloft by someone in the booth next to them. Another woman was reported missing.

Dean's fork paused halfway to his mouth, the dripping egg forgotten as his eyes locked on the headline:

"Fourth Local Woman Disappears – Town on Edge as Fear Grows"

He leaned to the side, casually trying to read more over the rim of the paper. Sam noticed the shift immediately, lowering his laptop screen.

"What?" he asked, voice low, eyes alert.

Dean nodded toward the booth. "Hot off the press. Another one's gone."

Sam stood, approaching the booth with practiced charm. “Hey, mind if I borrow that section?” The older man glanced up, recognized the badge hanging from Sam’s neck, fake FBI, of course, and handed it over without protest.

Dean scanned the article, eyes narrowing as he read aloud.

“‘Bridgette Keller, 28, vanished sometime during the night. No signs of forced entry. Personal items, car, and wallet all left behind. Last seen leaving the community library around 9:30 PM. Friends say she never made it home.’"

He threw the paper on the table. “That’s four women, all in their twenties, gone without a damn trace. Same story, every time. Vanishing act. No signs of struggle. No blood. No EMF hits. No sulfur. It’s like something’s plucking them off the face of the earth.”

Sam flipped open the laptop again, tapping away. “We should cross reference locations. Victims’ last known whereabouts, places they frequented, see if there’s a pattern.”

Dean stood, tossing some cash on the table. “You do that. I’m gonna go check out the library Bridgette was last seen at. If she disappeared after leaving there, maybe someone saw something. Or maybe... whatever took her is still hanging around.”

Sam nodded. “Call if you find anything.”

“You know me, Sammy. I always do.”