The Impala rolled to a stop in front of a quiet house in a small community not far from the highway. Porch light on.
They stepped out.
Molly looked around, confused. "Why did you bring me here?"
Henry didn't joke this time. "There's something we didn't tell you."
Sam gave him a look, but didn't stop him.
"Greeley wasn't the only one haunting Highway 99. There was another spirit tied to that road."
Molly frowned. "What are you talking about?"
Henry met her eyes. "It was you."
Silence.
"Me?" she repeated. "I'm not dead."
Dean shifted slightly but didn't interrupt.
"You are," Henry said quietly. "You just don't remember it."
Molly looked down at herself, hands shaking. "No. No, I'm not dead."
Sam stepped forward carefully. "Molly… when you crashed, you didn't make it."
She backed away from them. "That's not true."
Henry pointed toward the house. "David's inside."
Molly's breathing hitched.
Sam softened his voice. "He survived the crash."
The porch door opened.
A man stepped out, older than she remembered.
Molly froze.
Her eyes widened slowly as understanding began to settle in.
"I've been…?" she whispered.
"Stuck," Sam said gently. "On that road. Every year, the night replays and it has been 15 years since your death."
Molly turned back toward them slowly.
"I'm dead," she whispered.
This time there was no denial in it.
Dean leaned back against the Impala, arms folded, watching quietly. Henry stood beside him, giving Sam space to handle it.
Sam stepped closer to Molly, voice calm and steady. "You have to let go. Whatever's keeping you here—guilt, unfinished words—that's what's binding you. Staying like this… it's not good. Spirits that linger too long… they change."
Molly looked toward the house.
David stood on the porch, staring out at the night, unaware of her presence.
Tears welled in her eyes. "We fought," she said quietly. "It was stupid. I didn't even say goodbye."
"You don't need to," Sam said softly. "He loves you. That doesn't go away."
For a long moment she just watched him.
Then something shifted.
A soft glow began to surround her, faint at first, then brighter. Not harsh. Not violent.
Peaceful.
Molly gave one last tearful smile toward David.
"Thank you," she whispered.
Her form shimmered—
—and dissolved into light.
The night returned to stillness.
Henry exhaled slowly. "She definitely went to heaven."
Dean glanced at him, then back at the empty space where she'd stood.
"Yeah," Dean said quietly. "Guess some people get lucky."
Then the system flickered in front of his vision.
[Congratulations. Two ghosts eliminated.]
[Reward Granted: 8 Supernatural Points.]
[Gacha Triggered – Rare Tier (1% Chance)]
[Spin the wheel]
Henry's eyes sharpened slightly.
"Well… seems my luck's good," he thought. "This should be my second rare tier."
He triggered the spin.
The wheel rotated, slowing—
—and stopped.
[Congratulations. You obtained: Servant Leash]
"Huh?"
Henry blinked.
He casually walked to the other side of the car so Sam and Dean wouldn't see anything weird happening. A black collar-like object materialized in his hand, matte and faintly cold to the touch.
He stared at it.
"What the hell… I'm not into S&M," he muttered under his breath, turning it over.
He focused and pulled up the description.
[Servant Leash: A magical item created by a certain witch to place a leash upon her human pets.
Once worn on any part of the body—neck, arm, or leg—it cannot be removed by the wearer.
The wearer must obey every direct command given by the user.
It does not compel the soul, but it compels the body. ]
[Note: Can only be used on mortals.]
Henry's brows lifted slowly.
"Oh… this is actually good."
His expression shifted from confusion to calculation.
"Pity it only works on mortals," he thought. "Would've been perfect for demons."
He imagined lining up a few demons and ordering them around.
That would've been convenient.
He slipped the collar into his coat.
"Hey, what are you spacing out for? Get in," Dean called as he slid into the driver's seat.
"Okay," Henry said, climbing into the back just as the engine turned over and the Impala pulled away from the quiet house.
***
The next afternoon, they were in a diner booth, coffee steaming between them. Sam and Dean sat across from Henry while he turned his laptop toward them.
"Hey, guys. I think I've got a case," Henry said.
Dean took a fry off Sam's plate without asking. "We just finished one."
"In San Francisco," Henry continued, ignoring him, "a high-profile lawyer was found dead in his office. Massive bite mark running down his chest."
Sam leaned forward slightly. "A werewolf?"
Henry zoomed in on the crime scene photo. The wound was deep, jagged, unmistakably animal.
Dean studied the photo for a second, then leaned back with a faint smirk. "Yeah. That's a werewolf."
"So we're going to San Francisco?" Sam asked, already thinking ahead.
"Yep," Dean said without hesitation.
The waitress slid two plates in front of Henry. "Here are your two large chicken double-patty burgers."
Henry didn't waste time. He grabbed one immediately.
Dean stared at the plates. "Don't you think you're eating a little too much? At this rate, you're gonna turn into some American icon with a big belly. For our line of work, that's not ideal."
Henry took a bite, chewing calmly before answering. "You eat your own food, Dean."
Dean gestured at him with a fork. "I'm just saying, cardio's kind of important when things chase you."
"I get thrown around by ghosts and slammed into trees on a weekly basis," Henry replied. "That's my cardio."
Sam hid a faint smile behind his coffee cup.
Dean shook his head. "You're not gonna be laughing when we're running through the woods and you're wheezing."
Henry swallowed and pointed at Dean's plate. "You literally ordered pie after your burger."
"That's different," Dean said immediately. "Pie doesn't count."
Sam sighed. "We're really doing this?"
Dean ignored him and leaned back in the booth. "Finish up. We've got a wolf to find."
*****
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