With his head pressed against the cold glass of his '67 Chevrolet Impala, Dean Winchester, older brother of Sam, and a skilled hunter trained to slay supernatural beings, laid asleep. His arms were crossed and the radio played soft rock tunes. His brother, Sam, was also asleep in the passenger seat. Between them was a silver handgun and a pump rifle. Everything outside on the streets were quiet. The brothers had been spending the last hours searching for the creator of a viral chain letter that was, indeed, going to kill whoever did not pass it on.
As the two brothers slept, a long, trespassing shadow entered the urban streets. The leaves crackled and rustled, trying their hardest to escape from beneath the shadow. The wind whistled and the dark blue sky swirled into an ocean of black. The stars went out and the street lights grew dim. The shadow, with its human-like form, stretched out its gangly legs in a lope and its thin arms dangled beside his equally slight frame. This strange man wasn't dressed like a vagabond or a bandit, but dressed in a smart suit with a red tie. And inside his suit, he concealed a silver blade-- already tainted with red from last night's carnage. One would think that the man's suit would be stained and torn from such activities, but it was not. It was as if the man dressed his finest for his darkest intentions, knowing he would always come out clean in the end.
The thin man crept up behind the Impala and slipped out a small matchbox and a red-tipped match. Striking it hard against the box and bringing to life a flickering flame, the thin man reached around and flipped open the gas lid. Pinching the match between his first finger and thumb, he held it up in front of his faceless head and flicked it inside the gas chamber.
And then, just as calmly as he had arrived, the thin man crept off back to the woods. The leaves settled. The wind stirred no more. The black sky lit up to its soft blue and the stars twinkled again.
Dean's face twitched and he woke himself up by passing his hand over his face. His eyes fluttered open and a strong, smokey smell filled the car. A haze clouded the insides of the car and fogged the windows. Dean knew what was happening. Jumping into the sitting position, he reached over to Sam and searched for his brother's latched seatbelt. "Sam! Get out! Sam!"