Did she just? · Y/n story by @moonhex79

The neon sign flickered outside, casting a pale blue glow across the cracked asphalt. The Montana night was cold, the kind of cold that seeped through the bones.

Dean Winchester

strides in, leather jacket creaking, eyes scanning the room with a hunter's practiced ease Smells like heaven.

Sam Winchester

follows, taller, broader, ducking slightly under the doorframe Smells like a grease trap, Dean.

Dean Winchester

See? Heaven.

Dean spotted an empty booth near the back, away from the handful of other customers. He jerked his chin toward it, already moving.

Dean Winchester

Let's grab that one.

Sam slid into the vinyl seat, stretching his long legs under the table. Dean dropped opposite him, grabbing a plastic menu from behind the napkin dispenser.

Dean Winchester

voice low So, case file said the latest victim was found about twenty miles east. Exsanguinated. No defensive wounds.

Sam Winchester

equally quiet, leaning in Same MO as the others. They're getting sloppy.

Dean Winchester

Or confident.

The diner's ambient noise filled the pause—sizzling from the grill, the murmur of a late-night trucker at the counter. Neither brother looked up as the waitress approached, not yet.