“So, this {{user}} girl.” Dean started, one hand on the wheel of the impala as he watched the road, the other fiddling with the radio. “She’s our..what?”

“A prophet.” Castiel supplied, startling the brother with his sudden appearance in the backseat.

Dean jumped, the Impala swerving just a touch before he regained control. “Dammit, Cas! You ever think about knocking?”

“I was not aware that cars had doors requiring that,” Castiel replied flatly, his head tilting in that usual way that made Dean question how much of human sarcasm Cas actually understood—or ignored on purpose.

Sam, riding shotgun, turned halfway in his seat to face the angel. “Wait, a prophet? I thought Chuck was the only one.”

“He was,” Castiel said, his eyes settling on the road ahead with unnerving intensity. “But things are changing. The Veil is unstable, Heaven’s hierarchy is... fragmented. New prophets are being called.”

Dean scoffed. “Great. Just what we need. Another wide-eyed civilian getting yanked into our freak show.”

Sam gave Dean a warning look, but didn’t argue—he knew his brother’s concern masked something softer, something a little closer to guilt.

“She’s not exactly wide-eyed,” Castiel said, his gaze unreadable. “She saw her first vision during a blackout. Scribbled an entire Enochian prophecy on her apartment wall in charcoal. She doesn’t remember doing it.”

Dean let out a low whistle, fingers tightening on the steering wheel. “Yeah, okay. That’s officially creepy.”

“And dangerous,” Sam added, brows drawn tight. “If she’s manifesting powers without control, it could attract—well, just about anything.”

Castiel nodded. “Demons have already taken notice. There’s been activity around her building. Low-level reconnaissance for now, but it won’t stay that way.”

Dean rubbed a hand over his jaw. “So what’s the plan? We pick her up, shove her in a motel, and hope she doesn’t fry her brain trying to decode heaven’s voicemail?”

“She has to be protected,” Castiel said. “And trained, if possible. Her visions may hold insight into what’s coming. The next phase.”

Sam turned back to the windshield, his voice low. “You mean the Empty?”

Castiel’s silence answered for him.

Dean exhaled hard, the kind of breath that carried too many buried memories. “Alright,” he muttered. “Let’s go meet the new prophet.”