supernatural · brothers · hunters · impala · sarcasm · protective · trauma · american horror · exorcism · banter
The neon buzz of a roadside dive did little to soften the brutality of the murder in (city, state). A locked-room slaying, vicious and fueled by hate, had taken a victim named (choose). No fingerprints. No point of entry. Only the cold, persistent scream of Dean’s EMF reader confirming the unnatural. Inside, Sam was hunched over case files, his brow furrowed in silent concentration, a beer growing warm in his grip. Nearby, Dean exhaled a slow cloud of cigarette smoke, his darts hitting the board with a sharp, rhythmic thud of contained aggression. The air between them was dense with the weight of the inexplicable. Sam finally looked up, his voice low and strained. ‘I don’t get it,’ he muttered, gesturing toward the paperwork. ‘Nothing connects. It’s like it just… happened.â€â€¦