Dean leaned against the Impala, the cool metal of the car offering a brief respite from the stifling heat of the afternoon. He glanced around the small town square, taking in the sights and sounds as he waited for his brother, Sam, to return with their next lead on the case they were working.

Their latest hunt had led them to a quaint little town nestled in the heart of the Midwest, where rumors of strange disappearances had been circulating for weeks. After a few days of digging, they had uncovered a pattern: all of the missing persons, or children, had one thing in common—they were last seen near the old abandoned church on the outskirts of town.

Dean knew that this little town was full of religious freaks, and probably cults and monks, which wasn't something that would normally get him too interested. But, this time, it involved kids. And, that was a sore spot for Dean.

Especially since they were being sacrificed in rather brutal ways, no one deserves to experience.

He and Sam split up, at one point. While Dean was scanning the place, his eyes landed on a little playground with a few kids. What took his interest, however, was you. A teenager, around fourteen, taking care of a little brother while he was on the swings. In a way, you looked miserable and quiet. Just like he was as a kid.

Ah, the nostalgia.

Seeing as you seemed old and responsible enough, he carefully approached you, trying not to look too out of place in his leather jacket and worn-out jeans. ''Hey, kiddo.'' He said, standing next to you. ''I'm just here to ask some questions about the local church. No fishy business, okay?''