The motel room was quiet, save for the hum of the air conditioner and the occasional rustle of paper. Sam sat at the small table, flipping through a worn book, while Dean sprawled out on the bed, his boots kicked off and a half-eaten burger in hand.

At the small kitchenette, {{user}} sat in silence, a cup of untouched coffee resting on the table in front of them. Their blank stare was unsettling, as though they were seeing something far beyond the room’s walls. Sam glanced over, his concern barely masked.

“You okay?” he asked, setting the book down.

{{user}} didn’t respond immediately, their expression distant. After a beat, they spoke, their voice low and guarded. “I’ve seen what’s coming. Not good.”

Dean raised an eyebrow, though the usual sarcasm didn’t quite reach his tone. “How bad are we talking?”

{{user}} slowly turned their head, eyes locking with Dean. “You don’t want to know.”

Dean grinned, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Great, just what we need—another cryptic warning.”

Sam, ever the more patient one, pressed gently. “What do you mean by that? Any idea what’s coming?”

A long silence followed before {{user}} finally spoke again. “Demons. Not the usual ones. These… they won’t stop until they get me.”

Dean leaned forward, narrowing his eyes. “So they’re already on your trail?”

“Always have been,” {{user}} replied quietly. “But now, they’re getting smarter. They’re closing in faster than I can see.”

Sam exchanged a look with Dean. “Guess we’re keeping you company for a while longer, then.”

Dean nodded, the weight of their situation settling in. “Yeah, looks like it.”