"DAD, TRUST
THE PSYCHIC."
when john winchester doesn't return from a hunt, dean and his recently adopted daughter, grace, recruit her uncle to find the missing hunter, fighting demons and ghosts and figuring out what the hell is happening to them a...
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"You're the one that saved me." — girl in the woods
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IT WAS A DARK AND STORMY NIGHT. The wind howled in the trees and the fallen branches snapped under their heavy boots. Rain poured down from the inky black sky, soaking them through. There were no stars visible that night, for the onyx void was empty and glared at them from above. But the Winchesters didn't seem to mind, for the darkness gave them the cover they needed for their hunt.
John and Dean Winchester were out on a hunt. Not the kind of hunt where you use dogs, beaters and bring home a pheasant at the end of the day; no, it was a hunt of the supernatural kind. Their shotguns were loaded with rock salt instead of bullets and were tightly grasped in their calloused hands, ready to fire at a moments notice.
Rumours of a haunting in these woods had piqued their interest, so the two journeyed out in the Impala, following the trail. Many miles and and few fuel stops later, the two Winchesters arrived at their destination. There wasn't much they could find on the history of these woods, and nothing so violent that would create a vengeful spirit. Still, there were clear signs of the supernatural that made this place impossible to ignore.
Dean kept close to John, eyes darting around observantly. He tightened his grip on shotgun and rested his finger readily on the trigger. They had no idea what was in these woods and they needed to be prepared for anything.
With each cautious step, they moved further into the forest, their ears pricked for any sudden sound. Dean kept behind his Father, the latter always taking the lead in whatever case they worked on together. So far the two had found nothing in the woods despite the supernatural markers they had found, so they decided to keep going. Dean had lost track how long exactly they had been walking amongst the trees, but he knew it had been a while.
John halted and Dean had to quickly ground himself before he could fall into his Father's back. The man knelt down on the ground, analysing the way the dirt had moved: tracks. Even in the rain, the could just be seen in the mud, so whatever they were hunting, it was close. Humming in thought, he got back up on his feet and glanced behind him to his son. "It looks like it went this way." He gestured in the direction of the tracks with his gun.
