It wasn’t exactly how you pictured your day going—standing in the middle of a motel parking lot with two strangers who looked like they walked off a leather-jacket action movie set. One was quiet but kind, offering a small smile and a gentle, “Thanks for agreeing to talk to us.” The other leaned against the black Impala like it was an extension of his ego, arms crossed, green eyes watching you like a puzzle he didn’t quite trust.

Sam introduced himself first, reaching out his hand with easy warmth. “I’m Sam. That’s my brother, Dean. We’re... looking into something that might be connected to your case.” His voice carried that careful tone, like he didn’t want to spook you.

Dean barely nodded. “You sure about this? It’s not exactly a vacation.” But despite his words, he opened the back door of the car, glancing your way with something between a challenge and reluctant approval. You weren’t just a witness anymore. You were in this now—whatever this was.