Chapter Text
It had been ten years since Sam had last seen his brother. Ten years ago, he walked out on his family and the family business. He hadn’t talked to another hunter in all those years either. Sam didn’t want to keep up with the life. Sure, he kept rock salt in his cupboards and a knife in his bedside draw, but that was just protection, in case something came knocking. Sam didn’t look at newspaper articles talking about unusual deaths, he avoided them at all costs.
Sam thought getting out of the hunter life would make every problem in his life go away. It didn’t. It just made new ones. He tried to pretend that he was happy, that he found fulfillment, but he was lying to himself. He pushed himself so hard to become a lawyer, but he found he hated it. He worked long, hard hours, so much so that Jess left him. He had become a robot, going through the motions of life without a second thought. He wished he hadn’t erased Dean and Bobby’s numbers. He had no way of contacting them. He wasn’t even sure they were still alive. He really didn’t want to admit that he made a mistake leaving the life. He missed it, but he was determined to stick to his decisions.
The rumble of a car outside snapped him out of his thoughts. He looked towards the door of the café he was sitting in. The bells above jingled and a tall man with black hair that stuck up in every direction walked through the door. He glanced out the window, but there wasn’t a sleek black car that he remembered outside. He was probably imagining things. It was just him and the other man in the café, most people were at work. Sam had called in sick today, he needed a break.
The man was wearing a black suit underneath a tan trench coat. The man walked up to the counter and sat down, when the waiter was in front of him, he pulled out a familiar badge.
“I’m Agent Tyler, with the FBI. I was hoping to ask a few questions about the strange deaths in town,” the man said in a deep, gravely voice. Sam’s head snapped up when he heard the man. There was no way this man was not a hunter. Sam made sure to keep an eye on the man and listen to what he asked.
“Sure man. Whatever you need,” the waiter responded.
“Did you know any of the people who disappeared?” The waited shook his head no. The man wrote something down in a notepad he took out of his pocket.
“Have you noticed anything weird around town lately?”
“Like what?” The man glanced around; Sam quickly returned his gaze down to his plate.
“Cold spots, strange smells, weird noises at night.” The man listed off. Definitely a hunter. The waiter quirked an eyebrow up at that.
“Not that I can think of.” The waiter turned away when the door jingled again. The man turned to walk away, but made eye contact with Sam. Sam smiled at him, he almost hoped the man came over to him. The man checked the time on a watch, before he sighed and headed towards Sam.
“I overheard you’re an FBI agent. Anything I should be worried about?” Sam asked. The man gestured to the seat across from Sam, seemingly asking for permission to sit, Sam nodded.
“At this point we are not sure. My partner left me hear to talk to some locals while he went to speak to the families,” the man answered.
“What are some things us locals should be looking out for?” Sam wanted to see how the man would answer. He knew he could just tell the man that he used to be a hunter, but he didn’t want to open that door up again. He just wanted to know what was possibly in town.
“Just unusual things, such as cold spots or strange smells or sounds.” Sam pretended to think if he had noticed any of those things, he hadn’t. He wasn’t sure what he would have done if he had. He didn’t have enough equipment to deal with anything supernatural on his own. He just had a few things for protection.
“What do those things have anything to do with some deaths?” Sam asked. He knew it was an unfair question to this man because people normally didn’t ask it.
“I… um… just things the FBI look out for,” the man stuttered out. Sam didn’t think this man was a very experienced hunter.
“I see,” Sam answered.
“The manner of these deaths is very curious. It would be best to be cautious until the culprit is found.”
“I haven’t heard about the deaths. What was strange about them?”
“They appeared to be eaten by something,” The man said. Sam nodded, there were many possibilities of what could eat something.
“And this got the FBI’s attention?” The man nodded.
“Indeed, it did.”
“I hope you find whoever is doing this.” Sam actually meant that. He didn’t want the supernatural running around his town. The man glanced back down at his watch and sighed again.
“I must go,” the man slid a card across the table, “call me if you notice anything strange, Mr.?” The man paused, waiting for Sam’s name as he stood.
“Winchester. Sam Winchester.” Sam picked up the card from the table, fiddling with it in his hands. The man froze. His face paled and his eyes widened a bit. Sam wondered if he just gave away that he used to be a hunter. The man blinked and shot Sam a small smile before he turned a quickly left the café.
Sam waited a moment before he pulled out his phone. He paused and sighed. He told himself he was just going to look up an article, that he was simply curious, and nothing would come from it. Sam found the first article that talked about the gruesome deaths and for a moment he wondered how he managed to miss that this was happening right under his nose. Then again, he avoided all of this, and lately had not been a good time for Sam. Twenty minutes later, he finds himself engrossed in the articles about the town’s deaths. He is only interrupted by the waiter, telling him that he needs to order more or leave. Sam throws some money on the table and drives back to his home. He doesn’t know what the monster is, but he wants to help, he just isn’t sure how. The card in his pocket feels like it’s burning a hole in his jeans.