#supernatual

Nights were never peaceful. Not when she was a newborn in her mother’s arms, and not now, sleeping alone in a comfortable, quiet bed.

For years, her diagnosis was night terrors—something extremely common among babies and children. But it never got better. Nightmares about the deaths of strangers and acquaintances haunted her sleep. Some were peaceful deaths, showing wrinkles on a face, graying hair, and the affectionate murmurs of those nearby. They were dignified deaths, filled with peace and love.

Others…

Others made her wake up weeping, trembling, and sometimes on the verge of a panic attack. Violent, brutal deaths were the ones that terrified her the most. Seeing the people you love die would make anyone wake up sobbing in terror.

Her dreams were never peaceful; she never dreamed of flying or breathing underwater. She envied those who could sleep and dream of beautiful things, while she saw only one thing: death.

Her mother always tried to soothe the situation, always tried to make things better somehow. But how could this possibly be fixed?

Years passed, and some things changed. She still woke up from nightmares, still wept in her mother’s arms during the darkest hours of the night, and was still afraid to close her eyes.

But at fifteen, it happened for the first time: she saw death—up close. It didn't happen in a dream, but on a day that was supposed to be ordinary. She was at school, studying for a math test with a friend, when she accidentally bumped into one of her classmates—a student whose name, honestly, she didn't know. She had never spoken to him; she had never even heard him say a word between classes. He was the typical outcast: he wore hoodies even when the sun was blazing, never looked up, and always kept his gaze downcast with earbuds jammed in his ears. He didn't participate in class and made no secret of the fact that he didn't want to be there.

She watched the environment around her shift. It was as if a mist clouded her vision, transforming the bustling classroom into a dark, lonely bedroom. She could smell old clothes strewn across the floor. A noise made her jump, shouting. Then came the sound of furniture toppling over, like a violent fight. The bedroom door opened, and the boy walked in. He wore the same expression as always—looking tired… exhausted. She watched him close the door and then drag a piece of furniture in front of it, making it impossible to enter. And judging by the marks on the wall, it wasn't the first time.

For a second, she thought he saw her. She thought that, somehow, she was actually there. Especially when he started walking toward her.

"I don't know how I…" she began, but the boy ignored her. He walked right past her as if she weren't there, as if she were a ghost or something similar.

She watched the boy crouch down and pull a gun from beneath the bed.

"Whoa! What are you going to do with that?" she asked, but he didn't hear her.

He sat on the bed and cocked the weapon.

"What are you doing?" she asked, even though she already sensed what was coming next. "You… You don't have to do this!" she cried out when she saw him bring the gun to his mouth. "Don't do it! Please! Don't do it! I… I'm here! You're not alone! Don't do it!" she pleaded, but he neither saw nor heard her. She knelt on the floor in front of him and tried to force the gun out of his mouth, but it was as if her body had no physical substance. "DON'T DO IT! PLEASE! DON'T DO IT! HELP!!! SOMEONE HELP!!! ANYONE?!?" she screamed, looking around, even though she knew he had locked the door and there was no way anyone else could be there.

"He cannot be helped," a man said. His tone made her body tremble. His voice was calm and low, as if the situation were nothing out of the ordinary for him.

"What?! Of course he can! Help him!" she replied. In that moment, she didn't stop to think about how the man in the black suit had entered, or why she hadn't seen him before. She just wanted to prevent a tragedy. "HELP HIM! DO SOMETHING! HELP HIM!"

BANG

The sound of the gunshot rang in her ears for long, agonizing seconds. The boy's body fell back onto the bed, the gun landing beside him. She couldn't stand up; she couldn't move.

She had seen death before, but only in her dreams. She had never witnessed anything like this. Anything so… real.

The man in the suit reached out toward the boy's body, and—as if he hadn't died at all—the boy rose. She saw the semi-transparency of the young man's body in contrast to his actual physical form. It was his spirit.

"I'm taking you where you need to go," the man said to the boy, who didn't seem worried. "And you," the man turned to her, still on the floor. "Your father sends his regards."

And then, that mist took over her vision again; the boy's room vanished, and the classroom returned.

"Are you okay? You've been staring into space for a while…" her friend's voice called out. "Want to get some water?" she asked, but was ignored.

"What happened?" she asked, confused.

"What do you mean?"

"Didn't you see it?! Didn't you see him… Didn't you see anything?!" she asked, her hand trembling. Her mind replayed what had just happened; the sound of the gunshot still rang in her ears.

"I think that's enough math for today…" Anna said, closing her notebook. "Did you eat before class?" she asked with concern. She didn't seem to have seen anything.

"Yes, I did," she replied, turning to look at the boy at the back of the room. Still alive.

Maybe it was a hallucination, she thought.

But the next morning, she discovered the truth.

The boy had died that afternoon. No one spoke of how, but she knew.

She knew exactly what had happened.

Unfortunately, that wasn't the only time.

When she was giving change to a customer at the coffee shop, she had that strange vision again. This time, he was on the street corner opposite the café where she worked part-time, waiting to cross. She saw the car speeding up, while he thought it would brake.

That same man from before appeared, saying the exact same thing "Your father sends his regards" as he took the soul of the struck customer to the beyond.

When she returned to reality, the customer had already left the café. She hadn't made it in time. The car had been faster.

Another instance occurred when she was at the market with her mother. She accidentally bumped into an older woman while turning into an aisle. She saw the exact moment the woman would fall down the stairs at home and die.

That was when she understood: all these deaths were close. Close enough for her to see.

Her dreams showed distant deaths, but her touch? It showed deaths that were imminent.

And no matter how hard she tried to stop them, it didn't work. Not with the coffee shop customer. Not with the school librarian. Not with her mother.

She tried to save everyone. She tried to tell the librarian to go to the hospital because of her headache. She tried to beg her mother not to go to work that morning. But it was in vain. The librarian’s aneurysm ruptured anyway, and the truck that ran the red light kept speeding on.

It didn't matter what she did. If death was close, there was no way to stop it.

When she left flowers on her mother's grave, she avoided hugs from relatives. When her grandmother offered affection, she said she didn't need it. When her friends invited her out, she said she was too busy. After all, if she didn't witness the deaths, it was less painful. She suffered only once.

Years passed, and she became an outcast. She had moved far away from everyone she once knew. In the new city, she made no effort to make friends or get close to anyone.

At least, if she didn't know anyone, she couldn't see them dying. If she wore gloves and long-sleeved tops, she wouldn't have those terrible visions when brushing against someone.

It was a solitary life, yet peaceful and calm.

The small town where she lived saw little activity; it was quiet enough that they tried to organize any event imaginable to attract tourists. There was Shoemaker’s Day, where cobblers displayed their finest footwear at a street fair. There was Watermelon Day, where farmers showed off their most beautiful melons—some oddly shaped, others of a size that made anyone question the laws of nature. And, of course, the one day that actually drew tourists: Pie Day. It was a town-wide festival; absolutely everyone participated, from bakeries to ordinary residents like her. Everyone baked delicious pies, sold them, and enjoyed the beautiful, sunny day.

Her stall was located at the very end of the fair, not because she had been late setting up, but by choice. The far end of the fair was always less crowded; the most popular stalls were in the middle, drawing the biggest crowds. By the time people reached her stall, their stomachs were full and their hands were already laden with pies, so few even stopped to look at the ones she had made.

Again, this was intentional.

It was the middle of summer and the weather was hot; she couldn't wear her gloves or her sweatshirt without people calling her crazy. For the first time, the town saw her in something other than winter clothes, and she was receiving plenty of compliments from her elderly neighbors.

Yet, without her gloves or coat, the risk of seeing deaths increased. Being in the midst of the fair’s bustle was a recipe for being bumped or accidentally touched, contact that would trigger visions of death.

She didn't want that. So, the end of the fair was the quietest spot—a place where she could pretend to enjoy interacting with people while staying safely away from any visions of death.

Sales weren't going particularly well, but fortunately, she didn't care much about the money.

"Hi… Is there any pie left?" a tall, blond man with green eyes asked. She simply glanced at her table, where the five pies she’d baked sat completely untouched.

"We only have cream, strawberry, lemon, chocolate, and cookies-and-cream, unfortunately," she replied, feigning a sad tone. The man laughed in a way that made her heart race… though she didn't make much of it; given her social anxiety, any interaction left her feeling like she’d run a marathon.

"Right," he chuckled. "Sales aren't going well, it seems… You should set up your stall closer to the middle of the market. Not a single pie is left over there."

"Yeah… I'll do that next time," she agreed, since explaining her whole backstory to a total stranger was too much. The ensuing silence made her skin prickle. "So… want to try one?"

"Oh, pfft, I don't sample pie," he said, opening his wallet and pulling out a hundred-dollar bill. "I believe all pies are equally delicious," he added, flashing a magazine-worthy smile. "I'll take them all."

"A-All of them? Seriously?" she asked, unable to hide her surprise.

"Wow! Okay! I… Okay! I'll just… wrap them up for you." Her hands trembled in disbelief. She had thought she’d be eating pies for the rest of the week, but thanks to him, she was all set. She placed the five pies into a box sturdy enough to carry them home. "Here you go." He handed her a hundred-dollar bill as he took the pies. "I don't have change… You're my first customer, so I don't have…"

"Keep the change."

"What? No! That's too much money!"

"It's five pies," he said, as if it were a fair trade.

"It's still too much money," she replied.

"How about this: next year, I'll come back and take another five pies for free."

"Then you'd owe me money," she retorted, watching him roll his eyes. "But… I accept."

"Great! See you next year, then… What's your name?" he asked, extending his hand for a handshake. She didn't think. She didn't remember the detail—the reason her life was the way it was—and shook his hand while giving him her name.

That mist clouded her vision once again.

Now she was no longer at the market, but in a large shed. A barn, actually, the same kind the Santos family had at the far end of their property. It had wooden walls, metal beams jutting out dangerously, a straw-covered floor, and a roof letting in shafts of sunlight. According to town rumors, the Santos family hadn't torn it down only because of some issue with the city council or something similar. Now, it was just a shelter where oddballs met up at night.

The pie man was there, along with another man, taller, with longer, darker hair. They weren't there to appraise the property; instead, they were fighting a group of four men wearing strange ski masks.

She saw the moment the man in the suit appeared in the corner, he always appeared before a death. And if only she could guess who it was…

She watched the blond man fighting one of the masked figures. She saw them moving closer to a pillar—specifically the one with that stupid iron beam jutting out. It meant almost certain, instant death.

However, the vision blurred just as the masked man was about to shove the blond man against the beam. That had never happened before. Her visions never ended before the death actually occurred.

It was strange.

When the mist cleared, she was back at the fair. That man was no longer standing before her.

Her stall was empty; her heart was racing, and her mind was replaying what she had seen.

She had never experienced an incomplete vision.

"Are you alright, dear? You look pale," asked Cecília, the elderly woman from the neighboring stall.

"Ceci… I have to go," she said, leaving the empty stall behind.

What if that unfinished vision meant his death wasn't sealed yet?

And even if trying was madness, even if she was certain she would face disappointment and witness the gentle stranger’s death, it was still worth a shot.

Because if there was even the slightest chance of saving his life, she would take the risk.

She ran toward the Santos farm—which might not have been the best idea, given how many minutes passed before the place finally came into view. An old car was parked near the barn; she could only assume it belonged to the stranger.

She ran a bit further, bursting through the barn’s old door just in time to see the fight. Four masked men were attacking the two strangers, or perhaps it was the other way around; she didn't care at that moment.

One second, the blond man was shoving a masked figure against a beam; the next, they had spun around. Now the blond man was the one being driven into the beam by the masked attacker.

She didn't know what to do; she certainly wouldn't win a fight. She rarely exercised, and that run alone had made two things clear: she was out of shape, and anyone who runs for love is crazy.

Then she did something stupid. Something that would make any professional fighter wince in disdain: she threw herself at them.

Her body went flying in a way she knew looked terrible. But at least she’d achieved her goal. The blond man, who had fallen beneath her, was now clear of the beam, and the masked man hadn't even seen what happened.

"Hi," she panted, hovering over the blond man. Yet, she had no time to explain or react, for the other man—the one with long hair—decapitated the masked man on the ground with a single stroke of his machete.

Maybe I saved the wrong person, she thought.

Her scream was loud enough for even the Santos family to hear from the other side of the farm. She scrambled away from the blond man and the other one, trying to escape through the barn door, but another masked man blocked her exit.

He was breathing heavily and looked furious (and with good reason, given that those two men were apparently there to kill him and his friends).

She watched the man rip off his mask; he smiled, and the sight of his teeth made her scream again.

She tried to run once more, but the man grabbed her by the arm. She felt his cold fingers digging into her skin, and for a moment, she thought she was about to face her own death—but then something strange happened.

He stared at her with wide eyes, as if he were looking at the most terrifying thing imaginable. His body began to tremble, and the hand that had been holding her dropped limply to his side. She quickly backed away, terrified by everything that was unfolding.

The man—or whatever that thing was—began to be enveloped by a black ooze that emerged from behind him. It wrapped his entire body in a cocoon before vanishing completely, as if he had never existed at all.

"Dean" "Sam," the last two men said, drawing her attention to them. "Who is she?" the long-haired one asked, pointing his blood-stained machete at her. "She's the pie lady," the blond one—Dean—replied, as if that were enough to clear up the confusion.

She looked at the three headless bodies lying on the ground. She looked at her trembling hands and at the spot where that black goo had engulfed the other man. And perhaps due to the adrenaline from the chase, or from witnessing a fight that ended in death (the kind that would surely make the headlines) her body gave out. Her knees buckled, dizziness forced her to close her eyes, and finally, her stomach threatened to empty out her entire lunch (luckily, she hadn't eaten yet, so it wasn't too gross).

"Hey, hey," Dean said, trying to approach; he knew the shock she must be feeling. She quickly backed away, however, scrambling across the hay-strewn floor before hitting another pillar. "It's okay…"

"Did she kill a vampire?" Sam asked, replaying the situation in his mind.

"Not now, Sam," Dean said, crouching down to her level. He tried to approach again, but she flinched away. "I'm not going to hurt you."

"You won't," she agreed, her breathing ragged. "I… I don't want to see you die again," she explained, as if he already knew the whole story.

"I think she's in shock," Sam said, walking over and crouching down just like his brother.

"Think we should take her to the bunker?" Dean asked, as if she weren't right there.

"I think we should burn these bodies and take her somewhere safe," Sam replied. He tried to offer his hand to help the woman up, but she recoiled from his touch.

"I DON'T WANT TO SEE YOU DIE!" she screamed, causing both men to look at each other as if she were crazy. "Every time someone touches me, I see how they're going to die! And I don't want that! I saw you die—now I'm going to end up on the news as an accomplice!"

"We have to take her to the bunker." It wasn't a question anymore; it was a statement.

"I'm not going anywhere with you! You killed them! I… I killed him! I...I" she screamed, trembling violently, and then she felt two fingers press against her forehead, and everything went absolutely calm.

Stake out - Where you go to the scene of the crime and use John's journal and little tricks to figure out what monster you're up against. Not a guarantee you'll pinpoint the exact monster, but it's the least suspicious and you may find extra weapons

Interviews - You go around town talking to people, trying to find clues. You get WAY more information that you can cross-reference with the journal, and have the opportunity to visit shops and gain extra equipment. However, you have to keep suspicions low and avoid getting sussed out, which can lock certain interactions

Police Files - Sneak mission. It's repetitive, but a guarantee you'll get all the info you need to identify the monster. It is difficult, though, as it requires you to break into the police station, navigate it, avoid guards, get the files, and sneak back out. Getting caught is an automatic fail, so it's a high-risk, high-reward.

In the Investigation Section, you get the opportunity to explore and find collectables. References to the show during the era and added information in John's Journal

The next stage is the actual monster fight:

Depending on what you find out about the monster, you have to pack what you need in a single dufflebag, choose your next location (Graveyard, house, forest, etc.). If you guessed the monster wrong and chose the wrong location, it goes to a cut scene of the brothers going back to the motel after a bust, and another victim is taken. It gives you an extra clue as to what the monster could be, BUT your final score for the hunt does take a hit

If you DO pick the correct location, you then have to find and hunt the monster. I'm thinking a Silent Hill style fight. Maybe Death by Daylight esque where you either choose to fight the monster head-on, or sneak up on it

A game like this, I feel like HAS to be a multiplayer where one plays Sam and the other plays Dean. And you both work together to take the monster down

If you fail, it's just game over. If one of you gets deathly injured, the other brother has a chance to heal them (video game logic). The game only ends when you both die

If you win, it jumps to a cut scene of the salt and burn, where Sam and Dean recite to you what you did and your fuck ups. If you get a perfect hunt, instead of the salt and burn, you get a mini cut scene of the brothers eating at a diner, grabbing a beer, relaxing at their motel, or just on the road again.

Then the game repeats, randomizing what monster you get and where you are. And there's a difficulty slider that gives you more monsters to fight in one game, makes you remember random facts from the show itself to identify them, and forces you to be smart about your attacks

The second game, or more so the sequel to this one, would take place around season 8 and beyond, where they gave the bunker ad more allies

THIS ONE would be a semi-open world because I don't think it's a good idea to have a game that gives you the opportunity to explore THE ENTIRETY OF AMERICA

So, instead, you choose the location of your next hunt using the Map Table in the bunker, and it loads you to a small, randomized town/city in that state.

The bunker, I feel would act as home base that you can kinda decorate depending on if you play as Sam or Dean. You can decorate your own room, add collectibles to the walls, and utilize parts of the bunker

Unlike the previous game, you can upgrade Sam and Dean's skills. You can work out at the gym to gain strength (Makes your melee attacks stronger), read lore from the library (Unlocks new information about monsters), go to the shooting range (Better aim, stability and less recoil when using guns), or do fun activities like watching movies, cooking, or hanging out with NPCs like Charlie, Kevin, Castiel, and more (Improves social skills and gets you more information through interviews), or explore the towns outside the bunker and unlock certain cutscenes and character interactions. And more stuff like speed and durability

The actual hunting gameplay is similar to the first game, but with some major changes.

Instead of a monster of the week, you actually have a storyline to follow. Definitely a condensed version of the actual series' story beats cut into chapters/seasons. Each chapter has you fighting a big bad, be it the Leviathans, the British Men of Letters, Lucifer, and more. You have to investigate where they are, what they're up to, and what to bring to stop them, meeting new characters along the way, and having to fight minor enemies

It's definitely less replayable than the first game, focusing on upgrading Sam and Dean and defeating Chuck, the final boss. It's more story-focused, and I'm imagining something similar to GTA where people can and will definitely notice Sam and Dean acting off, and there will be times when you HAVE to run away and hide before the cops get you. There are more cut scenes, more customization on what the brothers wear, and where they can go.

Game two has a DLC where you can play as Castiel on his own, and it's a side story fetch quest where you need to go around trying to obtain certain ingredients for a spell

You get to fight monsters still, but you don't upgrade Castiel. You only have Cas' angel blade and grace as your weapons (Grace being used to either attack or heal yourself mid battle, but you have a limited supply. It replenishes over time). Your final boss is like a monster/villain we haven't seen in the show, and defeating it gives you a cut scene of Cas coming back to the bunker

Sam and Dean are all like, "Where have you been???"

And Cas just drops what he's got onto the table and says, "There was a road bump."

And it turns out they didn't need it anyway, so they store it in the storage room and the game ends with Cas laying in bed watching shitty TV

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