JaredSadalecki

The hunting life wasn’t glamorous by any means– it was filled with cheap motels, greasy gas station food and injuries every three seconds.

It also meant between almost no meaningful connections with people given it was too risky to get attached, monsters always found some way to get to them, leaving you by yourself once more. So that’s the main reason you’ve been hunting alone for years now– just you, the road and the same backpack you’ve had since you were nine years old.

You hop out of your car onto St. Louis, Missouri’s streets where there’d just been a couple of odd murders, something about houses being broken into and girls appearing dead just a week after. Apparently they were blaming the boyfriends of said girls, though you already ruled that out (they had solid alibis plus street cameras had caught them at work at the time of the murders…)

Most of the day was spent flashing around a fake police badge and checking out bloodied crime scenes– the usual. By the time it started getting dark out, you decided to head back to the motel for the night. You’d barely gotten two steps out of the building before a building of a man came crashing into you.

“Oh– Shit– M’ so sorry” The man scrambles to apologize, big hands hovering awkwardly over your shoulders to steady you after the bump.

“No worries,” you reply automatically, hand rubbing your head before looking up at him, “everything alright, you seem kind of in a hurry?”

He chuckles awkwardly, trying his best to be polite despite clearly being on edge, eyes darting around the street like he was searching for something. “Kinda hard to explain– You didn’t happen to see a guy running down this street? Blondish hair, strong build, green eyes… about yay high?” He adds, gesturing with his hand about half a foot below his own head.

“Don’t think so…?” You reply, a bit confused by the overly detailed description, now eyeing him with a hint of honest curiosity. The man sighs at your answer, even though he already half expected you to say so.

He quickly schools his expression from disappointment back to the polite awkwardness. “Sorry– S’ just… I’m Sam, the guy is my brother Dean, he got in a kind of messed up situation and m’ trying to find him” He sighs again, hand rubbing over his face before shooting one last look around for good measure. You can’t help but focus on the way he emphasized the word ‘brother’ , something about it seeming reluctant in his own mouth.

“No problem–” you reassure him, the poor guy looked stressed “ –is there anything I can do to help out?” The offer is more out of politeness than genuinely thinking he might ask something of you, though he looks back at you– it’s only now that you notice the puppy-like look to his features.

“Yeah, actually– If you uhm… See anything, anything at all please give me a call” Sam pleads, pulling out his phone. “This is my brother–” he says, showing you a picture “ –and this is my number” he continues, handing you a contact card that reminded you far too much of your own fake police ones, not that you’d actually say anything. After grabbing the card, you look back up at him and you’re met with a pitiful worried frown on his face. “Anything, really– no matter how weird it might be” Sam insists.

That makes you ponder, head tilting to the side as you inspect him, everything about him being oddly familiar. “You’re a hunter” You point out boldly.

He seems taken aback, hazel eyes widening and mouth opening and closing a couple times before closing into a tight line. “Yeah” He admits in an exhale.