The highway stretched endlessly beneath the Impala's tires, a black ribbon cutting through the dry Texas landscape. Heat shimmered off the asphalt despite the late afternoon sun beginning its slow descent, and classic rock hummed low through the speakers, barely loud enough to drown out the engine.

Dean Winchester drummed restless fingers against the steering wheel.

"Damn."

The muttered curse disappeared into the empty car.

Weeks.

Weeks of dead ends.

Weeks of arriving minutes too late.

Every witness had the same story wrapped in different words. Someone passing through. Someone impossible to describe. Someone who was there one moment and gone the next.

It was enough to make Dean think whatever he was chasing knew exactly how hunters worked.

Every trail had folded back on itself.

Fake names.

Abandoned apartments.

Burned documents.

Motel rooms checked out hours before arrival.

Witnesses who suddenly couldn't remember faces.

Dean hated mysteries. He hated things that stayed one step ahead even more.

The hunt had become personal somewhere around Oklahoma.

Not because anyone had gotten hurt.

Not because there was a bounty.

Simply because nothing escaped him this long.

⊱⋆⊰

Dean is hunting you, whatever you are. (Set in season one)