The road was quiet again.
Not peaceful.
Just... quiet.
The kind of silence every hunter learned to fear.
Three months had passed since the Ash Foundry burned to the ground.
Three months since Dean Winchester and Ben Braeden had escaped with the Colt.
Three months without a single hunt.
It should have felt like a victory.
Instead, it felt like the calm before a storm.
The black 1967 Chevrolet Impala rolled across a lonely highway beneath a gray autumn sky.
The engine purred with the familiar rhythm that had carried generations of hunters across America.
Dean rested one hand on the steering wheel.
The other tapped absentmindedly against the driver's door in time with the music playing softly through the speakers.
Ben looked out the passenger window.
"Three months."
Dean kept his eyes on the road.
"Yeah."
"Nothing."
Dean nodded.
"I noticed."
Ben frowned.
"No ghost calls. No vampires. No demons. No hunters asking for help."
Dean sighed.
"You're complaining because nothing's trying to kill us?"
Ben shrugged.
"It's weird."
Dean couldn't argue with that.
It was weird.
Hunters didn't get vacations.
Something always happened.
Always.
A roadside diner appeared ahead.
A faded neon sign blinked weakly.
MILLER'S DINER
Dean slowed the Impala.
"Coffee?"
Ben smiled.
"Now you're speaking my language."
The diner was nearly empty.
A truck driver sat alone near the counter.
An elderly couple shared breakfast by the window.
The waitress greeted them with a tired smile.
"Sit wherever you like."
Dean and Ben chose a booth near the back.
The waitress poured two cups of coffee.
"Passing through?"
Dean nodded.
"Something like that."
She smiled politely.
"Not many travelers these days."
Then she hesitated.
Almost as if she wanted to say something.
Dean noticed immediately.
"Everything okay?"
The waitress looked toward the front windows.
Rain had begun falling outside.
Soft.
Steady.
She lowered her voice.
"People have been disappearing."
Ben slowly looked up.
Dean set down his coffee.
"How many?"
She swallowed.
"Seven."
Silence.
"Sheriff says they just... vanished."
Dean exchanged a quick glance with Ben.
Hunter instinct.
The conversation was over before it began.
Dean stood.
He left money on the table.
"Thanks for the coffee."
Ben smiled apologetically.
"Guess we're working after all."
Outside, the rain had become heavier.
Dean and Ben walked toward the Impala.
But Dean suddenly stopped.
His eyes fixed on the windshield.
Ben frowned.
"What?"
Dean pointed.
There was something tucked beneath the driver's side wiper.
An envelope.
Old.
Yellowed.
Completely dry despite the rain.
Ben picked it up carefully.
There was only one word written across the front.
Dean.
No last name.
No address.
Just...
Dean.
Ben looked at him.
"You expecting mail?"
Dean slowly shook his head.
"Not anymore."
He opened the envelope.
Inside was a single folded sheet of paper.
The handwriting was instantly recognizable.
Sam Winchester.
Dean's hands froze.
Ben watched silently.
Dean unfolded the page.
At the top, Sam had written only one sentence.
If you're reading this... it means the road chose you.
Dean felt his chest tighten.
He continued reading.
Some things were never meant to stay buried. If Heaven ever falls silent... don't look up. Look beneath your feet. That's where the first door was built.
The letter ended there.
No explanation.
No signature.
Nothing else.
Dean folded the page carefully and slipped it into his jacket.
Ben broke the silence.
"So..."
He looked toward the endless highway stretching into the rain.
"...what do you think he meant?"
Dean looked at the Impala.
Then at the dark clouds gathering on the horizon.
A hunter's instinct whispered the answer before his mind could.
"I don't know."
He opened the driver's door.
"But we're gonna find out."
The Impala's engine came to life with its familiar roar.
As they pulled away from the diner...
Neither of them noticed the man standing across the street.
He wore a long black coat.
His face remained hidden beneath the brim of an old hat.
But his eyes...
His eyes glowed with a faint silver light.
He watched the Impala disappear into the rain.
Then he smiled.
"At last..."
The stranger turned and vanished into thin air.
Somewhere far above the clouds...
A single feather drifted slowly toward the Earth.