It was odd, to say the least. Why would his father send him in the middle of nowhere? John was holding the package under his arm, flipping his cellphone open to give his father a word or two until he saw her. The infamous car Henry had been talking about. Huh. So there WAS someone actually alive in that motel. Stuffing his cellphone back in his pocket, John walked across the parking and climbed the stairs before knocking on the door that had been written on his note.
Dean woke up with a start, his knuckles brimming white wrapped around the hilt of the demon knife. Another knock at his door. He combed his fingers through his short, cropped hair and kept hold of the knife as he pushed himself out of bed. He pulled the door open until the chain lock stopped it. The hunter looked at the young male up and down.
"Can I help you?"
