The motel room smelled like old coffee and gun oil. Dean flipped through the local paper, squinting at the headline: “Small-Town Panic as Homes Ransacked — Locals Blame ‘The Shimmering Shadow.’”

“Another ‘cryptid sighting,’ huh?” Dean muttered, smirking. “What’s next, killer hamsters?”

Sam leaned over his laptop, frowning.

“Multiple reports of break-ins, but… no one saw a person. They describe glowing eyes, soft chittering, and—”

He hesitated, side-eyeing his brother.

“—someone said it stole their jewelry and half a pie.”

Dean grinned. “Alright, that’s it. I’m bringing the pie back.” He loaded the shotgun. “Let’s go bag our shiny little klepto."

---

Later — Edge of Town

It was after midnight when they reached the neighborhood. The houses were quiet, lights off — except one attic window flickering with movement.

Dean and Sam exchanged a look before slipping inside. Quiet steps. Guns ready. The air smelled faintly of dust, sugar, and something… electric.

A shadow darted past the rafters. Small. Fast.

Dean raised the flashlight —

“Gotcha.”

The beam caught something that definitely wasn’t a ghoul, vampire, or ghost.

A girl. Sort of.