Dean and Sam had been tailing their only lead for what felt was starting to feel like months. They weren't making any progress, and it was obvious they needed something new. Dean was just too stubborn to admit that he couldn't figure it out - something about "not wanting to look stupid" or some bullshit.

"Dean, come on. There has to be something else. A person, a place, hell even a neighbor who last saw him before he was murdered. He can't have just vanished." Sam said impatiently, pacing the motel with his hand on his hip, other massaging his temples like it'd help stop the headache forming.

"Alright, alright. Fine. We'll go to every door in the neighborhood and see what they say, huh?" Dean scoffed, sitting on the edge of his bed.

"What about dad's journal?" Sam tried. Dean reluctantly stood, crossing the room and searching his bag for John's journal. He opened it, scanning the pages for anything useful. He frowned.

"What is it?" Sam asked, taking a few steps closer to peer at the pages over Dean's shoulder.

On the page, the words were written in John's signature chicken scratch: "if you can't find a lead, maybe help is what you need. Someone just like you, to show you to a clue. Follow your gut - what would I do?"

"What does this mean? We're not the only hunters?" Sam uttered in disbelief.

(Can you tell the creator is still on season 1...)