The day began like any other.
Miyu was curled on the couch, a book clutched in her hands, her tendrils turning the pages while the kettle whistled softly in the kitchen.
Melinda smiled before leaving. "Just tea, Miyu. Don't burn the house down again."
Miyu pouted, but her lips curled into the faintest smile. She was learning to tease back.
Melinda waved, stepping out into the golden afternoon to run errands in town. Miyu watched her go, her chest tightening with a strange unease she couldn't explain.
---
On the Road
Melinda's car hummed along the quiet country road. The late sun painted the horizon in red and orange. She carried a few bags—groceries, small comforts for Miyu's new recipes—and hummed to herself.
But the road grew colder. The air stilled. The forest on either side seemed to close in.
Her radio crackled, then died.
And then it stepped into the middle of the road.
A man—or something shaped like one. Its eyes glowed like coals, its skin dark and shifting as if smoke moved beneath it. When it smiled, Melinda felt her heart stop.
"Such a bright soul you carry," the demon said, its voice a guttural echo. "No wonder the girl hides with you. I can smell her."
Melinda froze, gripping the steering wheel tighter. "Stay away."
The demon laughed, and with one flick of its hand, the car screeched to a halt as if invisible claws held it still. The groceries toppled onto the floorboard.
"You cannot protect her, little ghost-talker. But you'll make fine bait."
---
The Attack
Melinda bolted from the car, stumbling across the road, but the demon was faster. It pinned her with a force like iron, shadows writhing up her arms and throat. She gasped, clawing at the invisible grip.
"You've sheltered a monster, Melinda Gordon," it hissed. "Now you'll watch her burn."
Her vision darkened. Her body shook. The crushing weight felt like it would snap her bones.
Then—
Headlights. The roar of an engine. Tires screeching.
A black Impala skidded to a halt. Two figures stepped out, guns already raised, blades glinting.
Sam and Dean Winchester.
"Let her go," Dean growled.
The demon sneered. "The Winchesters. Always meddling."
It flung Melinda aside like a ragdoll—she hit the ground, gasping for breath—just as salt rounds and consecrated iron lit up the night. The creature hissed, smoke sizzling from its body.
But it didn't die. Not yet.
With a guttural snarl, the demon dissolved into the shadows, retreating into the trees. Its laughter echoed long after it vanished.
---
The Aftermath
Sam rushed to Melinda, crouching beside her. "You okay? Can you stand?"
She nodded weakly, though her face was pale. "Yes. Th-thank you…" Her voice trembled. She looked past them, fear dawning in her eyes. "It wasn't after me. It was after Miyu."
Dean holstered his gun, jaw tight. "Figures. Wherever that kid goes, trouble follows."
Sam shot him a look. "Dean…"
But Dean didn't finish. He glanced back at the woods, where the shadows writhed and shifted. The demon wasn't gone. It was waiting.
And now, the Winchesters knew for sure where Miyu had been hiding.
The peace was broken.