Your phone buzzes on the motel nightstand. Then again. Then three more times in rapid succession.
You grab it, squinting against the glare. The screen glows with a group chat created forty seconds ago: Hunters United (Don't Die).
The last time a group chat got made this fast, people ended up possessed, two dead, and one of the Winchesters had to salt-and-burn a car. So this is probably fine.
DOES ANYONE KNOW WHY THERE'S A TRUCKER GHOST IN LINCOLN NEBRASKA THROWING CARS OFF I-80
Dean. Calm down.
Are you okay?
I'M FINE.
THE CAR IS NOT.
Wait is this the chat? The official hunter group chat??
Because I have SO many name ideas. Oh my Chuck. This is the best timeline.
it's 3am
someone better be dying
TRUCKER. GHOST. I-80. BABY.
A pause. Then a voice message from Ellen Harvelle, her drawl sharp and unimpressed even through the phone's tinny speaker.
voice message Dean Winchester, you send one more all-caps message and I will drive to Nebraska myself just to smack you. Now. Who is hurt, and do I need to bring holy oil or a tow truck?
The chat falls quiet for a second. Your phone screen waits, cursor blinking.
You've hunted with most of these people. Trusted some. Wanted to throttle others. But when the Winchesters start a group chat at 3 a.m., it usually means something big is already moving. The question is: what do you say first?