The Supernatural: Season 5

Chapter 1: The SPD

The graveyard breathed.

Not literally—though it felt close—but in the way fog curled low to the ground like it had lungs, in the way crooked headstones leaned toward one another as if whispering secrets they hadn't finished keeping. Dead leaves scraped across cracked marble. Wind threaded through bare branches, carrying the smell of wet earth and old flowers left too long.

A circle of light tore open between two graves.

Heat rushed outward, bending the fog back, and four figures stepped through.

Jason emerged first, fire dim but ready in his palms. Tara followed, eyes sharp, posture coiled. Gabrielle rolled her shoulders like she'd just walked out of a bad dream. Tyler came last—and immediately looked around.

"Well," he said, glancing at the headstones, "if I knew we were coming to Tara's home I would've cleaned up better."

"Dont start," Tara replied flatly.

"If not now when," Tyler shot back.

Gabrielle snorted. "We've been doing this for six months and you're still annoying."

Jason lifted a hand. "Focus."

They all exhaled at once.

"I'm just saying," Tyler continued, quieter now, "if I'd known taking over the SED meant responding to every supernatural disturbance from haunted laundromats to cursed bake sales, I might've negotiated better."

Tara muttered, "I miss when problems stayed in hell."

Jason turned slowly, scanning the graveyard. "Complaints later. We're looking for something called Threnyx."

Gabrielle's brows knit. "Let me guess—ancient, ugly, and emotionally fueled?"

"Raises the dead," Jason said. "But not gently. Zombies. Violent ones. Targets their own families."

Tara's jaw tightened. "Summoned how?"

Tyler answered without looking up. "Calling out to the dead."

He stopped walking.

Tilted his head.

"...Is the zombie's name Harry Chase?", he asks.

Everyone turned.

Tyler pointed.

One grave stood ripped open, earth clawed aside, casket split and empty. The headstone read:

HARRY CHASE
Beloved Father

Gabrielle sighed. "Of course it is."

A scream cut through the night.

They ran.

The fog thinned near the edge of the cemetery where a woman crawled backward across the grass, sobbing, hands shaking. A corpse staggered toward her—skin gray, eyes hollow, mouth working like it remembered how to speak but not why.

Jason raised his hand, flame sparking—

Tara slapped it down.

"Don't," she snapped. "That's still someone's family."

Jason hesitated.

Gabrielle screamed.

The sound hit the corpse like a freight train, sending it skidding backward across the ground in a spray of dirt.

The woman scrambled up and ran to them, collapsing against Jason, terrified. "I—I didn't mean for this to happen," she cried. "I just wanted him back. I couldn't get over losing my dad."